Keeping Courageous & Carrying On - Part 15
Title: Keeping Courageous & Carrying On - Part 15
Rating (overall): NC-17
Pairings: Pre Blaine/Kurt. Blaine centric.
Spoilers: Aired episodes.
Warnings: Abuse, Violence, Alcoholism, PTSD.
Word Count: 6,231
Notes: Inspired by this angst meme prompt. Until this chapter I had never cried whilst writing. This completely broke my heart, if there are errors it‘s because I couldn‘t see the keyboard. I’m sorry this took so long, I went to see Darren Criss live last week and that kind of put everything on hold. I hope you like this. It’s for you. <3
Summary: Blaine’s father is abusive but he refuses to be brought down by it all. He knows that one day he’s going to make something of his life. He can cope as long as he believes in himself.
Previous:
|| Part 01 || Part 02 || Part 03 || Part 04 || Part 05 || Part 06 || Part 07 || Part 08 || Part 09 ||
|| Part 10 || Part 11 || Part 12 || Part 13 || Part 14 ||
o~o~o
When consciousness finally hits me, it doesn’t hit me like a brick, like it usual does, it hits me like a bag of feathers and for a moment I genuinely can’t understand why I‘m not scared, why my heart isn‘t pounding in my chest; why my cheeks aren‘t wet, why my eyes aren‘t stinging and searching for shifting shapes in swollen shadows. Then I feel it, I feel the soft touches of Kurt’s fingers as they dance effortlessly through the curls of my hair and that explains everything. Absolutely everything.
Softly, carefully, tenderly his fingers move in unison, rotating in sporadic circles, sending deep shivers through my body and gentle, despondent gasps past my lips because I suddenly remember where I am. I suddenly remember what happened last night in startling clarity, the childish things I said, the childish things I did. The way Kurt played along with me, with so much blind conviction; his solid determination to prove to me that it was okay, that I was okay, that I wasn’t alone. My heart skips a beat just thinking about it but my heart swells as I remember him standing in the doorway, wide eyed, refusing to leave me alone with the violent phantom of my father. But it was so much more than him refusing to leave me alone, it really was. In those moments Kurt was refusing to let me hurt myself; he was refusing to let me spiral out of control, he was refusing to let me suffocate. Kurt gave me the ounce of unwavering stability that I needed so desperately in that horrifying moment and I will never forget that. I can’t ever forget that. Not ever.
I lift my eyes a little then and I’m met with the inevitable sight of the barricade that we built in the tiny hours of the morning, I take it in. Tens of tiny boxes stacked squarely on top of each other, they wouldn’t be able to stop a gust of wind, I can’t help but cringe. My eyes shutting tightly as my cheeks flush an unpleasant red and shame builds steadily in my chest. It rises through me at such a rate that my skin starts burning and Kurt’s fingers start to sting. I try to move away from his hand then. I try to pull away but Kurt just shifts next to me, his hand falling from my head downwards to the small of my back, his thumb moving in soft but very present circles. Circles that seem to overwhelm me far too easily and leave me feeling impossibly fragile. I’m overly aware that I could completely fall apart right now.
Kurt is still here for me.
Part of me expected him to be gone this morning because of what happened last night. Though, a much bigger part of me feels awful for even thinking that because Kurt is my best friend and he loves me and he knows that this his hard and he promised to help me regardless and I just dismissed that like it was nothing. But it was just never meant to be like this, I was never supposed to be this vulnerable, especially not in front of him. Not Kurt. He was so hurt, so unhappy, when we first met and he needed my strength and sometimes pretending to be strong for his sake was actually enough for me to really believe that I was. But now he knows the truth and I know that sitting here, on his bathroom floor, with that stupid barricade mocking me, isn’t strong. Not at all. This is me feeling hopelessly helpless.
I try to pull away from Kurt one last time but he won’t let me budge and I know he must feel the heat coming off me now. The shame and the embarrassment that I’m feeling are sending my temperature through the roof. I feel like my skin is on fire but he still wont let me go. I need to stand up, push that stupid barricade over, and run away and I think that maybe Kurt knows that. I think maybe that’s why he wont let me move an inch...
“It’s okay, Blaine.” Kurt says then in a soft, clear, sleep-free greeting.
His busy fingers pausing at my back as he waits for my reply. I don’t know what to say, what I can say, so I just bite my lip nervously. I can’t take my eyes away from the make-up bag that sits on top of the tissue box and I feel so stupid right now. I feel so silly.
Then I wonder how long Kurt’s been staring at it, because I’m almost certain that he has, because how couldn’t you, and I wonder how long he’s been waiting for me to wake up. I wonder how long he’s been sitting here.
“How long have you been awake?” I ask eventually and I can feel Kurt shrugging behind me dismissively as he says, “About two hours.”
I groan. He shouldn’t have done that.
“Kurt, you should have just left me here.” I say sincerely because he shouldn’t have been sitting in here, in his twisted position, with an arm wrapped around me for two hours, he should have carried on with his day. He doesn’t owe me anything and he’d certainly never owe me this. He’s giving me too much of himself. Far too much. Much more than I deserve.
My muscles tense.
“You’re worrying again, I can feel it in your body.“ Kurt says tenderly, his deft fingers tapping gently at my back, “I wanted to stay here, Blaine, so don‘t torment yourself over it.” Kurt reassures firmly but it’s not something that settles easily on my conscience. It just isn’t.
It seems far too wrong.
“You could’ve just gone back to your bed as soon as I was asleep, Kurt. I wouldn‘t have known.” I try honestly and Kurt shakes his head quickly. Moving to his knees swiftly, he shuffles in front of me, his hands grabbing at mine. I draw in a long, shaky breath as he squeezes our palms together and then lets them hang between us. When he doesn’t say anything I look up and I can’t help but observe the concern in his eyes and the soft, tentative smile that lingers on his soft lips. I can see it so clearly then, Kurt was never afraid of me. He wasn’t lying yesterday. I look away, I feel so embarrassed, I feel like I’ve made an even bigger fool of myself.
“Please look at me.” he says desperately then and he sounds so sincere that I drag my eyes upwards to meet his, “Blaine, I said that I’d stay with you in case he came back to hurt you… and I really did mean that. I mean absolutely everything I say to you, Blaine, and I hope you understand that? I need you to understand that. Because you‘ve done so much for me and it‘s very important that you let me do the same for you, even though this is going to be really hard for us.” He smiles softly then and I can feel his tearful eyes on me just as much as I can feel his strong hands.
“I‘m--” I start quietly before I cut myself off but Kurt nods encouragingly and my mouth starts moving without permission, “I’m sorry I involved you in my crazy. I never… I never meant for anyone to be implicated in my drama. Especially not you, Kurt; especially not your family.” I share and I feel like I’ve said this to him a hundred times but my heart keeps telling me to say it one last time, just one more time, and then maybe he’ll see how much of a burden I really am. Maybe he’ll see the truth.
My eyes slip to the floor.
“We need to talk about this, Blaine.” Kurt whispers then, his voice laced with complete sadness, as he takes one of his hands back and uses it to prop up my chin, my eyes trying desperately hard not to look at his.
“No, we don’t.” I say quickly, slamming my eyes shut, my teeth pressed firmly together. I shake my head; I can’t look at him.
Kurt makes an awful sound, barely above a breath, and it’s absolutely heartbreaking.
“Yes, we do, we really do, Blaine. When you can’t look at me that hurts me. When you keep calling yourself a burden you upset me, you upset my dad, and I know that you don’t mean to… but it still hurts.. not because you don’t believe we’re telling you the truth but because you don’t believe you’re worth caring for. You’re my best friend and I love you, okay? I really love you, Blaine.” I can hear the tears in his voice now and my face starts to collapse, “The only person I care about more than you is my dad.” He whispers and I bite my lip because I can feel the emotion surging through my chest. One of Kurt’s hands is still squeezing mine tightly but the other is softly cupping my cheek now, his thumb smoothing backwards and forwards over my skin.
“Blaine,” he continues then, but his voice is much, much quieter now, it’s so soft that it‘s almost completely inaudible, “You’re not crazy, okay? I don’t like you calling yourself crazy because it‘s just not true. You’ve just escaped a life of abuse, because that’s what it was, Blaine, it was abuse and that doesn’t just get better. But, I promise you, there‘s nothing wrong with you. I promise you.. ” he wraps his arms around my shoulders then, his warm breath ghosting over my neck, “You’re absolutely perfect.”
I enclose my own arms around Kurt then and for a while we just cling to one another, on our knees, tears slipping down our faces, our necks pressed firmly together and we don’t need to say anything.
Our bodies are saying everything that needs to be said; they’re saying:
I am here for you, always.
o~o~o
Finn edges towards me the second we’re alone in the kitchen, his face is overly apologetic and his eyes are brimming with regret. It’s not exactly surprising that he’s waited until we were alone to come and talk to me, he’s been standing by the sink, clutching a cup for fifteen minutes and that had to mean something. He’s been staring at me from the corner of his eyes all morning, as Kurt and I ate our breakfasts together, but now Kurt’s gone- because he dropped green tea down his shirt- that’s given Finn a perfect opportunity. We’re totally alone now.
He shifts awkwardly, uncomfortably, as he stands next to me, moving his weight continuously between the balls of both his feet. He’s not standing quite as tall as he usual is either and that alone is a little off putting. Finn Hudson is tall in a lot of different ways and seeing him look so small is utterly unnerving. I don’t like it. Not at all. It’s not familiar to me, this uncertain, careful Finn that’s standing next to me.
“I’m sorry.” he mutters then, suddenly, quietly, and I nod.
So, he’s here to apologise to me.
I should have expected this really because he’s a good person and that plus Carole equals an apology. Every single time.
My fork stabs aimlessly into one of Kurt’s delicious healthy heart pancakes and I don’t quite know where to look but I guess his face is a good option because he looks really nervous and I don’t want him to think I’m not paying him any attention because I’m listening to him. I really am.
“I know you‘re sorry, Finn. We‘re all sorry.” I say honestly and he grimaces. His eyebrows knitting together like he doesn’t want to be let off the hook that easily. He lets the silence hang between us for a moment and then he tries again.
“I.. I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk. My mom said that you were obviously uncomfortable and I should have noticed... and she’s right.” Finn offers and I just nod again.
“It’s okay, Finn.” I supply then and his mouth forms a tight line. Like he’s very unhappy with himself and I don‘t like seeing anybody like that, least of all Finn.
“What happened in the hallway yesterday.. I just.. I’ve never seen anything like that and I just.. I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, Blaine.” I can feel my brow furrow and my cheeks flush as I gawk at him because I hadn’t expected that. He looks at me hopefully and smiles.
“Thank you.” I mutter, utterly bewildered, and he smiles at me so softly then. And, as if by magic, his confidence steadily restores itself. It’s such a beautiful thing to witness. His shoulders pulling themselves backwards, his eyes lighting up again.
“Kurt really likes you, Blaine, and he’s my brother now and I.. I know I can be pretty dumb sometimes but I just want you to know that I’d never do something to upset you on purpose.. you matter to Kurt; so you matter to me.” He says firmly and I smile back at him then.
He holds out a friendly fist and I instinctively curl my own hand up before I bump it into his. I feel like I’ve gained an older brother today, even though I’m not sure that Finn is actually older than me, and I know that I really need to remember this feeling, especially today. I have a lot going on today. A lot of stuff that could hurt me just as soon as help me and having a big brother to back me up really can‘t hurt.
Nothing can hurt me, not anymore. I make those choices now.
o~o~o
Knowing the right people gets things done, it has to, because Carole called one of her friends late last night, a therapist, and now I have an appointment with them in less than ten minutes. I wasn’t even aware that therapists worked on Sundays but apparently they do, which makes sense because people don‘t stop hurting just because it‘s the weekend. That would be stupid. But I’m not really interested in the work habits of therapists, or of anyone, for that matter. I’m just trying to think about anything other than the fact that, in a mere ten minutes, a mental health professional is going to be asking me questions and lurking around inside my brain. Searching through those private places that no one has any right to be in, trying to find all of the answers to all of my problems. It sounds ridiculous, it even sounds ridiculous in my head, but I’m not stupid, I know that I need help. Help that knows exactly what it’s doing. I can’t let my father follow me around forever, I can’t let him haunt me. I’m trying to get my life back, I’m trying to be as strong as I pretended to be for Kurt. I just really hope this therapist isn’t male because I’m still a little uncertain of older men in general and I don‘t think I‘ll be able to just walk into a room, close the door, and tell them things I haven‘t told anyone before.
In fact, I know I’d never be able to do that.
Burt is the only person with me, Kurt wanted to come, of course he did, but Burt wouldn’t let him. Because: Kurt, he has to do this for himself, son and Burt is right, I do have to do this for me. Burt is walking a couple of steps ahead of me, like he has been since we got out of the car, but he hasn‘t mentioned me falling a few steps behind and I‘m grateful for that. I’m just feeling so nervous.
When we do reach the building Burt pushes the door open utterly fearlessly and strides into the warmth of the waiting room; there’s not an ounce of hesitation in the older Hummel and I‘m so damn thankful for that. If he had hesitated, if he had lingered, just for a second, I don’t know what that would have meant for me. I don’t know what that would have done to the fear I have lingering near my heart or the shame that’s blossoming in my chest and blooming on my cheeks.
Burt holds the door open for me- it’s wide enough to allow me through but not so wide that the receptionist can see me. I have to make this choice. Burt told me that on the drive here and he’s reminded me several times since. This has to be my choice, even though he thinks I need to be here. If I truly don’t want this , if this is doing more harm than good, then we’ll just turn right around and he’ll take me to his house, no questions, no explanations. It’ll just happen, if it needs to, if I can’t do this.. he’ll just take me away… but I can do this. Can’t I?
I need to do this.
I take the plunge then, I take a tentative step forward and Burt smiles at me before he looks around the room and I do the same. I didn’t know what to expect but it’s a small space warmed beautifully by walls coated in burnt oranges and deep browns and the plush chairs that line the room in such an abstract manner make everything seem so informal. Like if you sat down you could pretend you were in a café somewhere and not in a waiting room and that alone makes me want to find the designer and give them a hug because the layout of this room is keeping a few of my nerves at bay. It looks like a rustic coffee shop and I’m just not afraid of coffee shops, or cafes, they’ve always been good places, safe places, for me. Places where Kurt and I could talk after school, places where I could forget.
“You find a seat, and I’ll tell the receptionist we’re here.” Burt offers and I nod, walking awkwardly to the closest chair and throwing myself down into it. I still feel incredibly nervous and my hands are sweating and my cheeks are burning but this isn‘t as awful as I thought it would be.
When Burt walks back over to me he’s holding several sheets of paper, a reassuring smile hanging onto his lips, I didn’t know we were going to have to fill things out. He must see me staring at the paper.
“These,” Burt says, handing me two of the three sheets of paper, “Are consent forms. You just have to read them through and sign them, then I’ll sign them too, I brought you a pen over.” Burt hands me the pen then and I start reading, it’s something about consent and confidentiality and the law but I don’t really pay that much attention to what it’s actually saying, I just sign my name at the bottom hurriedly and give them back to Burt. I watch as he reads them over properly, then glances at me, smiles and signs his name too. It’s really strange, seeing his name written next to mine. My hasty, shaky ‘Blaine Anderson’ next to his strong, bold ‘Burt Hummel’. They’re a lot like us, I think.
“What’s that one?” I ask quietly, pointing at the third piece of paper that rests on Burt’s thighs.
“Oh, this one’s just a fees list and that’s nothing for you to worry about, son.” He says sincerely and I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that he keeps calling me ‘son’ and overpowering guilt. This session is costing them money, money they’ve worked extremely hard for. They shouldn’t be just throwing it away on me. I’m just some boy the barely knew a month ago and now they’re spending hundreds of dollars on me.
“Mr Hummel--” I start but Burt, he just shakes his head and moves his hand so that it’s resting softly on my thigh. He gives my leg a comforting squeeze and then says, “Don‘t. Blaine, it‘s okay. If it wasn‘t we wouldn‘t be here. This isn‘t a problem, okay?”
I’m about to open my mouth again to protest when a door opens and a woman in her early thirties emerges, her long red hair draped carefully over her shoulders.
“Blaine?” she says then, a comfortable smile on her face as she locks her eyes on mine, “Blaine Anderson?” She says again and this time I nod. She’s a woman. She’s a woman. I let out a shaky breath then and I bite my lip nervously before I stand. I only look back at Burt once, as I walk towards the stranger, and my heart his pounding. He smiles broadly at me then and nods his head encouragingly. So, when the woman in front of me opens the door to her office I walk straight inside. I’m not sure if I look it but I’m still absolutely terrified.
Once she’s closed the door behind us she says, “Please, sit wherever you like.” And so I take the chair closest to the door, mainly out of instinct, and watch as she pulls a chair over, so she‘s sitting opposite me, only a few feet of carpet separating us. From here I can see all of the freckles on her skin and the soft green of her eyes, she’s so beautiful.
“I hope you found the building okay?” she asks as she settles herself down and I just nod.
“Good, I‘m glad. My name is Ellen and today we’re just going to get to know each other.”
“O-okay.” I say quietly, my voice clearly revealing my nervousness.
“Don’t be nervous. There’s nothing to be scared of here, Blaine.” she says softly and it’s hard not to be taken in by her astoundingly reassuring manner. I just nod, my fingers playing and pressing each other anxiously.
“Firstly, I just want to make sure you understand that anything you say to me is entirely confidential, nothing you say in here will ever leave the room. Do you understand that?”
“Yeah.” I say quietly and she smiles again.
“Is it okay if I record our time together, I don’t like taking notes, I’d rather just talk to you. If that‘s okay?” She asks and again I just nod.
“Good, so what is it that brought you here today, Blaine?” She says evenly, getting straight to the point.
“Oh-- I.. I…” I stutter and she stops me.
“You don’t have to tell me everything, Blaine, maybe just tell me what’s bothering you the most right now.” she offers, a helpful smile sitting on her lips. It takes me a while to know what to say, or how to say it, and my finger nails are cutting into my skin. I’m not sure about this. I’m not sure at all.. but I made it this far.
“I feel.. I feel like I‘m lost.” I whisper stupidly, expecting her to raise an eyebrow but she doesn‘t.
“Is that a new feeling, for you?” she asks softly and I nod, my brow furrowing harshly, I don’t like talking about this.
“I never used to feel like this, I used to.. I used to feel like I had control.” I whisper and I feel so stupid that I feel my own lip snarl upwards in disgust.
“Did you have control?” she asks.
“N-no, not at all. But I thought I did.” I confess quietly, bending my fingers backwards.
“What changed?”
“P-people found out.” I say quietly, my voice wavering treacherously. I sound so pathetic.
“Who found out?” she asks then and I drag my eyes to a spot on the carpet. This is too much.
“My best friend. His family. Puck.”
“Who’s Puck?” She say then and it’s so hard to read the emotions in her voice.
“The p-person who found out f-first.” I say cringing as I stutter through the sentence, my hand reaching up to tug at my hair, my teeth biting at my lip. I wince, it still hurts from yesterday. Tears build in my eyes.
“How did that happen, Blaine?” she asks and I feel my face twitch. I’m going to cry. This is too much.
“I was so stupid, I.. I let my guard down.” I whisper, my eyes still on the carpet, “I fell asleep a-and the make-up it just… it just rubbed right off and he saw it.. he saw my secret. I’d t-tried so hard to keep it to myself but he saw everything. He knew.” I say and my voice is so much higher now.
“What did he see, Blaine?” she asks then and my eyes are blurring. I’m so stupid.
“Those disgusting bruises.” I spit, my revulsion turning into a broken whimper.
“What did Puck do?” she says and I can feel my heart pounding now.
“He said that I should have told someone.. he gave me his number so I could call him… if I needed to.” I mumble and now my hand is tightening its grip on my bicep, stroking up and down erratically as the tears that are swimming in my eyes threaten to fall.
“Did you call him?” she asks then.
“Yes.” I whisper in disgust.
“You regret that?” she says then and I wonder how obvious it is but I just nod.
“Why did you regret it?” she asks next.
“Because it changed everything and I couldn‘t.. I couldn’t pretend to be strong anymore.” I whisper and then the tears spill over my eyelids and down my face. My fingernails dig into my arm and I turn my face away from her.
“How did you get the bruises, Blaine?” she say carefully and I just shake my head. So stupid!
“M-my father.” I cry and a small sob slips past my lips.
“Did he make you feel unsafe in your home, Blaine?” she asks then and I nod as my face collapses.
“Every single day.” I reply, my breathing broken.
“Are you safe now?” she asks and I nod.
“Yes, for the first time in a long time…. Burt and Carole… they won’t let me go back to that house.” I share and the tears are absolutely pouring out of my eyes now. I don’t ever have to go back there but my hands are shaking.
“How do you feel about that?” she asks.
“Grateful…. because… I want to go back sometimes.” I whisper the last few words barely crossing my lips.
“Why do you want to go back?” she asks then and I shake my head. She can’t ask me that. I bring a hand to my eyes and try to use my knuckles to stop the tears.
“Because I’m.. I’m not good enough to be… normal.” I confess and two loud sobs burst out of my mouth because that’s the truth of it.
“Why aren‘t you goo enough, Blaine?” she asks then and her voice is much quieter now.
“Because.. because I’m dirty and I‘m so stupid.” I sob bitterly, “I let him hurt me for eight years. Who.. who d-does that? I’m so pathetic, I let him do that to me. I let him push me around and say those horrible things. I let him terrify me!” I wail and there are tremors running throughout my body now, my legs are absolutely shaking.
“When did he start scaring you, Blaine.” she asks softly and I rock forward in my seat, the heels on my hands pressed tightly against my eyes. When I pull back I can’t breathe properly and my face is sore from the wet mix of my tears and my own snot. I’m so disgusting.
“I was …eight.. and my mom.. Oh, God, she’d just died and I thought... I thought that it was my fault. I thought it was me.” I whimper and I still can’t look up. Heavy breaths jolting out of my body. I’ve never told anyone this before. I feel like my insides are going to devour me.
“Blaine?” she says and for a while I just cry.
“It was so late and I had a stupid cold.. and she went out to buy more medicine.. it was so dark outside, too dark, and I remember watching her drive away.. and she.. she just never came home. They said the other driver was at fault but it was me.. I know it was me. I wasn’t even ill the next day.. I was just so heart broken because she was my best friend a-and I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t coming home. My father.. he never talked to me after that.. he just... he just hurt me... but I killed my mom. So, I deserved it, didn‘t I? I killed her.” I sob and I can’t even pretend anymore. My body starts to jerk as I cry.
“No, Blaine, you didn’t deserve it.” she says quickly but I just shake my head.
“Then … then why would he do that to me? I thought-- I thought he loved me.” I whisper and my voice is completely destroyed.
“I don’t know why he did what he did, Blaine, but it wasn’t your fault.” she promises and I look at her for the first time then. She looks so sad, her eyes are pink and I want to keep looking her but I just can’t.
“You don’t know that.” I cry and as quick as lightening she says, “Blaine, that’s the only thing I do know about you.”
“I’m so sorry.” I cry then but she says, “Don’t be sorry, not in here.”
“It’s just.. he did so many horrible things.. you know… and I thought.. I thought he was going to ….kill me… every single day.. I thought I was going to die. I just wanted to be brave.. I just wanted to be strong.. and then I met Kurt and he needed… he needed a friend and I thought.. I thought I could be that guy. Then he got so.. he got so damn courageous and I.. I just completely fell apart. My defences crumbled.” I sob.
“That’s okay.” She reassures softly.
“No, it’s not. I saw Kurt become so happy.. I’d listen to him talk about his dad and then… I started to wonder what I’d done to deserve my father.. because I wasn’t a bad child. I wasn’t. I don’t remember doing anything wrong … but everyday he’d tell me that I was. Then he’d call me disgusting.. then he’d call me a filthy fucking faggot.” I whimper and my nails are jabbing into my arms again. I’m a dirty faggot.
“Blaine..” she says but I just shake my head as tears continue to slide under my chin and down my neck.
“I just couldn’t stand that.. so, I’d fight him because he wasn’t just talking about me anymore.. he was talking about w-wonderful people like Kurt too. And I-- I couldn’t fight him for myself but I could fight him for Kurt…. you know.. but that just made him hit me harder and I couldn‘t fight back.. my body.. it wouldn‘t move and so I‘d just.. I‘d just stand there and let him choke me, or hit me or spit on me and I couldn‘t stop it.. I couldn’t make it stop.. I just wanted it to stop.” a wail leaves my lips and I pull my legs up on the chair, burying my face in my knees.
“Blaine, It’s all over now.” she says softly but I shake my head.
“No. No, it’s not because he’s in my head now. I can smell him, I can hear him, he still hurts me and that hurts me even more because.. I thought it was finally over. I thought I could live.. but I was wrong. I was so wrong.” I mumble into my jeans and there’s a silence between us for a while, where all I can hear is my own shaky breathing and myself crying.
“You’ve had flashbacks?” She says carefully and I nod, or I try to, but I’m sure my head hardly moves.
“I terrified everyone.” I whispers in a heartbreaking confession and then, “I don’t want to be my father.”
“You’re not your father, Blaine.” she promises.
“I scared them, I scared Kurt.” I cry and I’m clinging to the material of my jeans now.
“Did Kurt tell you that?” she says then and I shake my head.
“N-no. He said.. he was only scared of m-my father.” I stumble and thinking of Kurt makes me cry impossibly harder.
“Is there a reason for you not to believe him?” she asks then and a long, heavy breath slips out of my mouth.
“No.” I choke out.
“Then you should believe him. You need to let people help you, Blaine.” she promises and I tighten the grip on my legs.
“But what if they can’t help me?” I say quietly, dreading the answer.
“When you step into their home what do you feel?” She asks then and I sniffle before I think about their house, think of the warmth, the scents, the people, the happiness, the understanding.
“Warm.” I say then.
“What else?”
“Love.” I whisper and my crying calms down. I loosen my fingers and my knuckles flush pink from their white.
“What else?”
“Safe.” I say at last and I’m still not looking at her but I know she’s smiling.
“Then they can definitely help you, Blaine. And I’m here too. And we’ll work at making your father stay away together, okay? We‘ll make you feel safe in your own head. We‘ll find your control again.” she promises and I peek at her then from behind my legs.
“Okay.” I mutter and she nods.
“I think you’ve done a lot of talking today, Blaine, and I want to give you a break. I’ll give you my phone number and if you’d like to come again and talk to me, just phone tomorrow, okay?” she says as she stands up and walks to a nearby cupboard, pulling out a small business card and a box of tissues. She hands them both to me. I put the card in my pocket and take a tissue from the box, wiping my face and my nose. Tears are still slipping out of the corners of my eyes but it’s nothing compared to earlier and eventually, after I’ve sat in silence for a while I let my legs slip back down and my feet touch the floor.
“Thank you.” I whisper then and she just nods.
“Blaine, I’m going to give you something now. It doesn’t matter if you come back to me or not but this will help you, okay?” she says as she shows me a notebook. I take it from her and she smiles. I sniffle and wipe my eyes again, flicking through the empty pages before I look back at her.
“Every time you feel scared, write down what you were doing before it happened. Every time you feel safe, write down what you did to feel that way. Eventually you’ll notice it’s the same things again and again and those are the things you need to avoid or encourage. This is just for you, Blaine. If you come back we’ll talk about it. But it’s yours and you don’t have to show anyone unless you want to, okay?” She explains and I nod in agreement.
“O-okay.” I whisper and my voice is still full of emotion.
“Thank you for coming here, Blaine. You’ve made so many big steps today. I know you’re still upset right now but you told me a lot of things you probably haven’t told anyone else before and that will make you feel lighter soon. I promise.” she says, sincerity burning in her eyes, and then, “Are you okay to go home with Mr Hummel, right now?”
“Y-yes. I think so.” I say quietly, balling the tissues in my hand. She stands then and I follow suit. We walk to the door in silence and my mind is racing, a hundred thousand thoughts racing through my head all at one.
“Take care of yourself, Blaine.” Ellen says then, as she opens the door, and I nod before I step out of the safety of her office and into the warmth of the waiting room.
The tears start sliding down my face again.
Burt walks straight over to me then, as the door behind me clicks shut, wrapping his arms tightly around my body. He doesn’t say anything, he just lets me cling to him, one of his hands moving up to cup the back of my head as my body starts to shudder. My face is in his shirt. A sob bursts past my lips and I feel it then, wet droplets falling onto my face and rolling down my neck.
But those tears aren’t mine. They’re Burt’s.
I press my face further into his chest then.
I let him hold me.
He lets me cry.
And I discover that home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.
o~o~o
Part 16.
Rating (overall): NC-17
Pairings: Pre Blaine/Kurt. Blaine centric.
Spoilers: Aired episodes.
Warnings: Abuse, Violence, Alcoholism, PTSD.
Word Count: 6,231
Notes: Inspired by this angst meme prompt. Until this chapter I had never cried whilst writing. This completely broke my heart, if there are errors it‘s because I couldn‘t see the keyboard. I’m sorry this took so long, I went to see Darren Criss live last week and that kind of put everything on hold. I hope you like this. It’s for you. <3
Summary: Blaine’s father is abusive but he refuses to be brought down by it all. He knows that one day he’s going to make something of his life. He can cope as long as he believes in himself.
Previous:
|| Part 01 || Part 02 || Part 03 || Part 04 || Part 05 || Part 06 || Part 07 || Part 08 || Part 09 ||
|| Part 10 || Part 11 || Part 12 || Part 13 || Part 14 ||
o~o~o
When consciousness finally hits me, it doesn’t hit me like a brick, like it usual does, it hits me like a bag of feathers and for a moment I genuinely can’t understand why I‘m not scared, why my heart isn‘t pounding in my chest; why my cheeks aren‘t wet, why my eyes aren‘t stinging and searching for shifting shapes in swollen shadows. Then I feel it, I feel the soft touches of Kurt’s fingers as they dance effortlessly through the curls of my hair and that explains everything. Absolutely everything.
Softly, carefully, tenderly his fingers move in unison, rotating in sporadic circles, sending deep shivers through my body and gentle, despondent gasps past my lips because I suddenly remember where I am. I suddenly remember what happened last night in startling clarity, the childish things I said, the childish things I did. The way Kurt played along with me, with so much blind conviction; his solid determination to prove to me that it was okay, that I was okay, that I wasn’t alone. My heart skips a beat just thinking about it but my heart swells as I remember him standing in the doorway, wide eyed, refusing to leave me alone with the violent phantom of my father. But it was so much more than him refusing to leave me alone, it really was. In those moments Kurt was refusing to let me hurt myself; he was refusing to let me spiral out of control, he was refusing to let me suffocate. Kurt gave me the ounce of unwavering stability that I needed so desperately in that horrifying moment and I will never forget that. I can’t ever forget that. Not ever.
I lift my eyes a little then and I’m met with the inevitable sight of the barricade that we built in the tiny hours of the morning, I take it in. Tens of tiny boxes stacked squarely on top of each other, they wouldn’t be able to stop a gust of wind, I can’t help but cringe. My eyes shutting tightly as my cheeks flush an unpleasant red and shame builds steadily in my chest. It rises through me at such a rate that my skin starts burning and Kurt’s fingers start to sting. I try to move away from his hand then. I try to pull away but Kurt just shifts next to me, his hand falling from my head downwards to the small of my back, his thumb moving in soft but very present circles. Circles that seem to overwhelm me far too easily and leave me feeling impossibly fragile. I’m overly aware that I could completely fall apart right now.
Kurt is still here for me.
Part of me expected him to be gone this morning because of what happened last night. Though, a much bigger part of me feels awful for even thinking that because Kurt is my best friend and he loves me and he knows that this his hard and he promised to help me regardless and I just dismissed that like it was nothing. But it was just never meant to be like this, I was never supposed to be this vulnerable, especially not in front of him. Not Kurt. He was so hurt, so unhappy, when we first met and he needed my strength and sometimes pretending to be strong for his sake was actually enough for me to really believe that I was. But now he knows the truth and I know that sitting here, on his bathroom floor, with that stupid barricade mocking me, isn’t strong. Not at all. This is me feeling hopelessly helpless.
I try to pull away from Kurt one last time but he won’t let me budge and I know he must feel the heat coming off me now. The shame and the embarrassment that I’m feeling are sending my temperature through the roof. I feel like my skin is on fire but he still wont let me go. I need to stand up, push that stupid barricade over, and run away and I think that maybe Kurt knows that. I think maybe that’s why he wont let me move an inch...
“It’s okay, Blaine.” Kurt says then in a soft, clear, sleep-free greeting.
His busy fingers pausing at my back as he waits for my reply. I don’t know what to say, what I can say, so I just bite my lip nervously. I can’t take my eyes away from the make-up bag that sits on top of the tissue box and I feel so stupid right now. I feel so silly.
Then I wonder how long Kurt’s been staring at it, because I’m almost certain that he has, because how couldn’t you, and I wonder how long he’s been waiting for me to wake up. I wonder how long he’s been sitting here.
“How long have you been awake?” I ask eventually and I can feel Kurt shrugging behind me dismissively as he says, “About two hours.”
I groan. He shouldn’t have done that.
“Kurt, you should have just left me here.” I say sincerely because he shouldn’t have been sitting in here, in his twisted position, with an arm wrapped around me for two hours, he should have carried on with his day. He doesn’t owe me anything and he’d certainly never owe me this. He’s giving me too much of himself. Far too much. Much more than I deserve.
My muscles tense.
“You’re worrying again, I can feel it in your body.“ Kurt says tenderly, his deft fingers tapping gently at my back, “I wanted to stay here, Blaine, so don‘t torment yourself over it.” Kurt reassures firmly but it’s not something that settles easily on my conscience. It just isn’t.
It seems far too wrong.
“You could’ve just gone back to your bed as soon as I was asleep, Kurt. I wouldn‘t have known.” I try honestly and Kurt shakes his head quickly. Moving to his knees swiftly, he shuffles in front of me, his hands grabbing at mine. I draw in a long, shaky breath as he squeezes our palms together and then lets them hang between us. When he doesn’t say anything I look up and I can’t help but observe the concern in his eyes and the soft, tentative smile that lingers on his soft lips. I can see it so clearly then, Kurt was never afraid of me. He wasn’t lying yesterday. I look away, I feel so embarrassed, I feel like I’ve made an even bigger fool of myself.
“Please look at me.” he says desperately then and he sounds so sincere that I drag my eyes upwards to meet his, “Blaine, I said that I’d stay with you in case he came back to hurt you… and I really did mean that. I mean absolutely everything I say to you, Blaine, and I hope you understand that? I need you to understand that. Because you‘ve done so much for me and it‘s very important that you let me do the same for you, even though this is going to be really hard for us.” He smiles softly then and I can feel his tearful eyes on me just as much as I can feel his strong hands.
“I‘m--” I start quietly before I cut myself off but Kurt nods encouragingly and my mouth starts moving without permission, “I’m sorry I involved you in my crazy. I never… I never meant for anyone to be implicated in my drama. Especially not you, Kurt; especially not your family.” I share and I feel like I’ve said this to him a hundred times but my heart keeps telling me to say it one last time, just one more time, and then maybe he’ll see how much of a burden I really am. Maybe he’ll see the truth.
My eyes slip to the floor.
“We need to talk about this, Blaine.” Kurt whispers then, his voice laced with complete sadness, as he takes one of his hands back and uses it to prop up my chin, my eyes trying desperately hard not to look at his.
“No, we don’t.” I say quickly, slamming my eyes shut, my teeth pressed firmly together. I shake my head; I can’t look at him.
Kurt makes an awful sound, barely above a breath, and it’s absolutely heartbreaking.
“Yes, we do, we really do, Blaine. When you can’t look at me that hurts me. When you keep calling yourself a burden you upset me, you upset my dad, and I know that you don’t mean to… but it still hurts.. not because you don’t believe we’re telling you the truth but because you don’t believe you’re worth caring for. You’re my best friend and I love you, okay? I really love you, Blaine.” I can hear the tears in his voice now and my face starts to collapse, “The only person I care about more than you is my dad.” He whispers and I bite my lip because I can feel the emotion surging through my chest. One of Kurt’s hands is still squeezing mine tightly but the other is softly cupping my cheek now, his thumb smoothing backwards and forwards over my skin.
“Blaine,” he continues then, but his voice is much, much quieter now, it’s so soft that it‘s almost completely inaudible, “You’re not crazy, okay? I don’t like you calling yourself crazy because it‘s just not true. You’ve just escaped a life of abuse, because that’s what it was, Blaine, it was abuse and that doesn’t just get better. But, I promise you, there‘s nothing wrong with you. I promise you.. ” he wraps his arms around my shoulders then, his warm breath ghosting over my neck, “You’re absolutely perfect.”
I enclose my own arms around Kurt then and for a while we just cling to one another, on our knees, tears slipping down our faces, our necks pressed firmly together and we don’t need to say anything.
Our bodies are saying everything that needs to be said; they’re saying:
I am here for you, always.
o~o~o
Finn edges towards me the second we’re alone in the kitchen, his face is overly apologetic and his eyes are brimming with regret. It’s not exactly surprising that he’s waited until we were alone to come and talk to me, he’s been standing by the sink, clutching a cup for fifteen minutes and that had to mean something. He’s been staring at me from the corner of his eyes all morning, as Kurt and I ate our breakfasts together, but now Kurt’s gone- because he dropped green tea down his shirt- that’s given Finn a perfect opportunity. We’re totally alone now.
He shifts awkwardly, uncomfortably, as he stands next to me, moving his weight continuously between the balls of both his feet. He’s not standing quite as tall as he usual is either and that alone is a little off putting. Finn Hudson is tall in a lot of different ways and seeing him look so small is utterly unnerving. I don’t like it. Not at all. It’s not familiar to me, this uncertain, careful Finn that’s standing next to me.
“I’m sorry.” he mutters then, suddenly, quietly, and I nod.
So, he’s here to apologise to me.
I should have expected this really because he’s a good person and that plus Carole equals an apology. Every single time.
My fork stabs aimlessly into one of Kurt’s delicious healthy heart pancakes and I don’t quite know where to look but I guess his face is a good option because he looks really nervous and I don’t want him to think I’m not paying him any attention because I’m listening to him. I really am.
“I know you‘re sorry, Finn. We‘re all sorry.” I say honestly and he grimaces. His eyebrows knitting together like he doesn’t want to be let off the hook that easily. He lets the silence hang between us for a moment and then he tries again.
“I.. I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk. My mom said that you were obviously uncomfortable and I should have noticed... and she’s right.” Finn offers and I just nod again.
“It’s okay, Finn.” I supply then and his mouth forms a tight line. Like he’s very unhappy with himself and I don‘t like seeing anybody like that, least of all Finn.
“What happened in the hallway yesterday.. I just.. I’ve never seen anything like that and I just.. I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, Blaine.” I can feel my brow furrow and my cheeks flush as I gawk at him because I hadn’t expected that. He looks at me hopefully and smiles.
“Thank you.” I mutter, utterly bewildered, and he smiles at me so softly then. And, as if by magic, his confidence steadily restores itself. It’s such a beautiful thing to witness. His shoulders pulling themselves backwards, his eyes lighting up again.
“Kurt really likes you, Blaine, and he’s my brother now and I.. I know I can be pretty dumb sometimes but I just want you to know that I’d never do something to upset you on purpose.. you matter to Kurt; so you matter to me.” He says firmly and I smile back at him then.
He holds out a friendly fist and I instinctively curl my own hand up before I bump it into his. I feel like I’ve gained an older brother today, even though I’m not sure that Finn is actually older than me, and I know that I really need to remember this feeling, especially today. I have a lot going on today. A lot of stuff that could hurt me just as soon as help me and having a big brother to back me up really can‘t hurt.
Nothing can hurt me, not anymore. I make those choices now.
o~o~o
Knowing the right people gets things done, it has to, because Carole called one of her friends late last night, a therapist, and now I have an appointment with them in less than ten minutes. I wasn’t even aware that therapists worked on Sundays but apparently they do, which makes sense because people don‘t stop hurting just because it‘s the weekend. That would be stupid. But I’m not really interested in the work habits of therapists, or of anyone, for that matter. I’m just trying to think about anything other than the fact that, in a mere ten minutes, a mental health professional is going to be asking me questions and lurking around inside my brain. Searching through those private places that no one has any right to be in, trying to find all of the answers to all of my problems. It sounds ridiculous, it even sounds ridiculous in my head, but I’m not stupid, I know that I need help. Help that knows exactly what it’s doing. I can’t let my father follow me around forever, I can’t let him haunt me. I’m trying to get my life back, I’m trying to be as strong as I pretended to be for Kurt. I just really hope this therapist isn’t male because I’m still a little uncertain of older men in general and I don‘t think I‘ll be able to just walk into a room, close the door, and tell them things I haven‘t told anyone before.
In fact, I know I’d never be able to do that.
Burt is the only person with me, Kurt wanted to come, of course he did, but Burt wouldn’t let him. Because: Kurt, he has to do this for himself, son and Burt is right, I do have to do this for me. Burt is walking a couple of steps ahead of me, like he has been since we got out of the car, but he hasn‘t mentioned me falling a few steps behind and I‘m grateful for that. I’m just feeling so nervous.
When we do reach the building Burt pushes the door open utterly fearlessly and strides into the warmth of the waiting room; there’s not an ounce of hesitation in the older Hummel and I‘m so damn thankful for that. If he had hesitated, if he had lingered, just for a second, I don’t know what that would have meant for me. I don’t know what that would have done to the fear I have lingering near my heart or the shame that’s blossoming in my chest and blooming on my cheeks.
Burt holds the door open for me- it’s wide enough to allow me through but not so wide that the receptionist can see me. I have to make this choice. Burt told me that on the drive here and he’s reminded me several times since. This has to be my choice, even though he thinks I need to be here. If I truly don’t want this , if this is doing more harm than good, then we’ll just turn right around and he’ll take me to his house, no questions, no explanations. It’ll just happen, if it needs to, if I can’t do this.. he’ll just take me away… but I can do this. Can’t I?
I need to do this.
I take the plunge then, I take a tentative step forward and Burt smiles at me before he looks around the room and I do the same. I didn’t know what to expect but it’s a small space warmed beautifully by walls coated in burnt oranges and deep browns and the plush chairs that line the room in such an abstract manner make everything seem so informal. Like if you sat down you could pretend you were in a café somewhere and not in a waiting room and that alone makes me want to find the designer and give them a hug because the layout of this room is keeping a few of my nerves at bay. It looks like a rustic coffee shop and I’m just not afraid of coffee shops, or cafes, they’ve always been good places, safe places, for me. Places where Kurt and I could talk after school, places where I could forget.
“You find a seat, and I’ll tell the receptionist we’re here.” Burt offers and I nod, walking awkwardly to the closest chair and throwing myself down into it. I still feel incredibly nervous and my hands are sweating and my cheeks are burning but this isn‘t as awful as I thought it would be.
When Burt walks back over to me he’s holding several sheets of paper, a reassuring smile hanging onto his lips, I didn’t know we were going to have to fill things out. He must see me staring at the paper.
“These,” Burt says, handing me two of the three sheets of paper, “Are consent forms. You just have to read them through and sign them, then I’ll sign them too, I brought you a pen over.” Burt hands me the pen then and I start reading, it’s something about consent and confidentiality and the law but I don’t really pay that much attention to what it’s actually saying, I just sign my name at the bottom hurriedly and give them back to Burt. I watch as he reads them over properly, then glances at me, smiles and signs his name too. It’s really strange, seeing his name written next to mine. My hasty, shaky ‘Blaine Anderson’ next to his strong, bold ‘Burt Hummel’. They’re a lot like us, I think.
“What’s that one?” I ask quietly, pointing at the third piece of paper that rests on Burt’s thighs.
“Oh, this one’s just a fees list and that’s nothing for you to worry about, son.” He says sincerely and I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that he keeps calling me ‘son’ and overpowering guilt. This session is costing them money, money they’ve worked extremely hard for. They shouldn’t be just throwing it away on me. I’m just some boy the barely knew a month ago and now they’re spending hundreds of dollars on me.
“Mr Hummel--” I start but Burt, he just shakes his head and moves his hand so that it’s resting softly on my thigh. He gives my leg a comforting squeeze and then says, “Don‘t. Blaine, it‘s okay. If it wasn‘t we wouldn‘t be here. This isn‘t a problem, okay?”
I’m about to open my mouth again to protest when a door opens and a woman in her early thirties emerges, her long red hair draped carefully over her shoulders.
“Blaine?” she says then, a comfortable smile on her face as she locks her eyes on mine, “Blaine Anderson?” She says again and this time I nod. She’s a woman. She’s a woman. I let out a shaky breath then and I bite my lip nervously before I stand. I only look back at Burt once, as I walk towards the stranger, and my heart his pounding. He smiles broadly at me then and nods his head encouragingly. So, when the woman in front of me opens the door to her office I walk straight inside. I’m not sure if I look it but I’m still absolutely terrified.
Once she’s closed the door behind us she says, “Please, sit wherever you like.” And so I take the chair closest to the door, mainly out of instinct, and watch as she pulls a chair over, so she‘s sitting opposite me, only a few feet of carpet separating us. From here I can see all of the freckles on her skin and the soft green of her eyes, she’s so beautiful.
“I hope you found the building okay?” she asks as she settles herself down and I just nod.
“Good, I‘m glad. My name is Ellen and today we’re just going to get to know each other.”
“O-okay.” I say quietly, my voice clearly revealing my nervousness.
“Don’t be nervous. There’s nothing to be scared of here, Blaine.” she says softly and it’s hard not to be taken in by her astoundingly reassuring manner. I just nod, my fingers playing and pressing each other anxiously.
“Firstly, I just want to make sure you understand that anything you say to me is entirely confidential, nothing you say in here will ever leave the room. Do you understand that?”
“Yeah.” I say quietly and she smiles again.
“Is it okay if I record our time together, I don’t like taking notes, I’d rather just talk to you. If that‘s okay?” She asks and again I just nod.
“Good, so what is it that brought you here today, Blaine?” She says evenly, getting straight to the point.
“Oh-- I.. I…” I stutter and she stops me.
“You don’t have to tell me everything, Blaine, maybe just tell me what’s bothering you the most right now.” she offers, a helpful smile sitting on her lips. It takes me a while to know what to say, or how to say it, and my finger nails are cutting into my skin. I’m not sure about this. I’m not sure at all.. but I made it this far.
“I feel.. I feel like I‘m lost.” I whisper stupidly, expecting her to raise an eyebrow but she doesn‘t.
“Is that a new feeling, for you?” she asks softly and I nod, my brow furrowing harshly, I don’t like talking about this.
“I never used to feel like this, I used to.. I used to feel like I had control.” I whisper and I feel so stupid that I feel my own lip snarl upwards in disgust.
“Did you have control?” she asks.
“N-no, not at all. But I thought I did.” I confess quietly, bending my fingers backwards.
“What changed?”
“P-people found out.” I say quietly, my voice wavering treacherously. I sound so pathetic.
“Who found out?” she asks then and I drag my eyes to a spot on the carpet. This is too much.
“My best friend. His family. Puck.”
“Who’s Puck?” She say then and it’s so hard to read the emotions in her voice.
“The p-person who found out f-first.” I say cringing as I stutter through the sentence, my hand reaching up to tug at my hair, my teeth biting at my lip. I wince, it still hurts from yesterday. Tears build in my eyes.
“How did that happen, Blaine?” she asks and I feel my face twitch. I’m going to cry. This is too much.
“I was so stupid, I.. I let my guard down.” I whisper, my eyes still on the carpet, “I fell asleep a-and the make-up it just… it just rubbed right off and he saw it.. he saw my secret. I’d t-tried so hard to keep it to myself but he saw everything. He knew.” I say and my voice is so much higher now.
“What did he see, Blaine?” she asks then and my eyes are blurring. I’m so stupid.
“Those disgusting bruises.” I spit, my revulsion turning into a broken whimper.
“What did Puck do?” she says and I can feel my heart pounding now.
“He said that I should have told someone.. he gave me his number so I could call him… if I needed to.” I mumble and now my hand is tightening its grip on my bicep, stroking up and down erratically as the tears that are swimming in my eyes threaten to fall.
“Did you call him?” she asks then.
“Yes.” I whisper in disgust.
“You regret that?” she says then and I wonder how obvious it is but I just nod.
“Why did you regret it?” she asks next.
“Because it changed everything and I couldn‘t.. I couldn’t pretend to be strong anymore.” I whisper and then the tears spill over my eyelids and down my face. My fingernails dig into my arm and I turn my face away from her.
“How did you get the bruises, Blaine?” she say carefully and I just shake my head. So stupid!
“M-my father.” I cry and a small sob slips past my lips.
“Did he make you feel unsafe in your home, Blaine?” she asks then and I nod as my face collapses.
“Every single day.” I reply, my breathing broken.
“Are you safe now?” she asks and I nod.
“Yes, for the first time in a long time…. Burt and Carole… they won’t let me go back to that house.” I share and the tears are absolutely pouring out of my eyes now. I don’t ever have to go back there but my hands are shaking.
“How do you feel about that?” she asks.
“Grateful…. because… I want to go back sometimes.” I whisper the last few words barely crossing my lips.
“Why do you want to go back?” she asks then and I shake my head. She can’t ask me that. I bring a hand to my eyes and try to use my knuckles to stop the tears.
“Because I’m.. I’m not good enough to be… normal.” I confess and two loud sobs burst out of my mouth because that’s the truth of it.
“Why aren‘t you goo enough, Blaine?” she asks then and her voice is much quieter now.
“Because.. because I’m dirty and I‘m so stupid.” I sob bitterly, “I let him hurt me for eight years. Who.. who d-does that? I’m so pathetic, I let him do that to me. I let him push me around and say those horrible things. I let him terrify me!” I wail and there are tremors running throughout my body now, my legs are absolutely shaking.
“When did he start scaring you, Blaine.” she asks softly and I rock forward in my seat, the heels on my hands pressed tightly against my eyes. When I pull back I can’t breathe properly and my face is sore from the wet mix of my tears and my own snot. I’m so disgusting.
“I was …eight.. and my mom.. Oh, God, she’d just died and I thought... I thought that it was my fault. I thought it was me.” I whimper and I still can’t look up. Heavy breaths jolting out of my body. I’ve never told anyone this before. I feel like my insides are going to devour me.
“Blaine?” she says and for a while I just cry.
“It was so late and I had a stupid cold.. and she went out to buy more medicine.. it was so dark outside, too dark, and I remember watching her drive away.. and she.. she just never came home. They said the other driver was at fault but it was me.. I know it was me. I wasn’t even ill the next day.. I was just so heart broken because she was my best friend a-and I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t coming home. My father.. he never talked to me after that.. he just... he just hurt me... but I killed my mom. So, I deserved it, didn‘t I? I killed her.” I sob and I can’t even pretend anymore. My body starts to jerk as I cry.
“No, Blaine, you didn’t deserve it.” she says quickly but I just shake my head.
“Then … then why would he do that to me? I thought-- I thought he loved me.” I whisper and my voice is completely destroyed.
“I don’t know why he did what he did, Blaine, but it wasn’t your fault.” she promises and I look at her for the first time then. She looks so sad, her eyes are pink and I want to keep looking her but I just can’t.
“You don’t know that.” I cry and as quick as lightening she says, “Blaine, that’s the only thing I do know about you.”
“I’m so sorry.” I cry then but she says, “Don’t be sorry, not in here.”
“It’s just.. he did so many horrible things.. you know… and I thought.. I thought he was going to ….kill me… every single day.. I thought I was going to die. I just wanted to be brave.. I just wanted to be strong.. and then I met Kurt and he needed… he needed a friend and I thought.. I thought I could be that guy. Then he got so.. he got so damn courageous and I.. I just completely fell apart. My defences crumbled.” I sob.
“That’s okay.” She reassures softly.
“No, it’s not. I saw Kurt become so happy.. I’d listen to him talk about his dad and then… I started to wonder what I’d done to deserve my father.. because I wasn’t a bad child. I wasn’t. I don’t remember doing anything wrong … but everyday he’d tell me that I was. Then he’d call me disgusting.. then he’d call me a filthy fucking faggot.” I whimper and my nails are jabbing into my arms again. I’m a dirty faggot.
“Blaine..” she says but I just shake my head as tears continue to slide under my chin and down my neck.
“I just couldn’t stand that.. so, I’d fight him because he wasn’t just talking about me anymore.. he was talking about w-wonderful people like Kurt too. And I-- I couldn’t fight him for myself but I could fight him for Kurt…. you know.. but that just made him hit me harder and I couldn‘t fight back.. my body.. it wouldn‘t move and so I‘d just.. I‘d just stand there and let him choke me, or hit me or spit on me and I couldn‘t stop it.. I couldn’t make it stop.. I just wanted it to stop.” a wail leaves my lips and I pull my legs up on the chair, burying my face in my knees.
“Blaine, It’s all over now.” she says softly but I shake my head.
“No. No, it’s not because he’s in my head now. I can smell him, I can hear him, he still hurts me and that hurts me even more because.. I thought it was finally over. I thought I could live.. but I was wrong. I was so wrong.” I mumble into my jeans and there’s a silence between us for a while, where all I can hear is my own shaky breathing and myself crying.
“You’ve had flashbacks?” She says carefully and I nod, or I try to, but I’m sure my head hardly moves.
“I terrified everyone.” I whispers in a heartbreaking confession and then, “I don’t want to be my father.”
“You’re not your father, Blaine.” she promises.
“I scared them, I scared Kurt.” I cry and I’m clinging to the material of my jeans now.
“Did Kurt tell you that?” she says then and I shake my head.
“N-no. He said.. he was only scared of m-my father.” I stumble and thinking of Kurt makes me cry impossibly harder.
“Is there a reason for you not to believe him?” she asks then and a long, heavy breath slips out of my mouth.
“No.” I choke out.
“Then you should believe him. You need to let people help you, Blaine.” she promises and I tighten the grip on my legs.
“But what if they can’t help me?” I say quietly, dreading the answer.
“When you step into their home what do you feel?” She asks then and I sniffle before I think about their house, think of the warmth, the scents, the people, the happiness, the understanding.
“Warm.” I say then.
“What else?”
“Love.” I whisper and my crying calms down. I loosen my fingers and my knuckles flush pink from their white.
“What else?”
“Safe.” I say at last and I’m still not looking at her but I know she’s smiling.
“Then they can definitely help you, Blaine. And I’m here too. And we’ll work at making your father stay away together, okay? We‘ll make you feel safe in your own head. We‘ll find your control again.” she promises and I peek at her then from behind my legs.
“Okay.” I mutter and she nods.
“I think you’ve done a lot of talking today, Blaine, and I want to give you a break. I’ll give you my phone number and if you’d like to come again and talk to me, just phone tomorrow, okay?” she says as she stands up and walks to a nearby cupboard, pulling out a small business card and a box of tissues. She hands them both to me. I put the card in my pocket and take a tissue from the box, wiping my face and my nose. Tears are still slipping out of the corners of my eyes but it’s nothing compared to earlier and eventually, after I’ve sat in silence for a while I let my legs slip back down and my feet touch the floor.
“Thank you.” I whisper then and she just nods.
“Blaine, I’m going to give you something now. It doesn’t matter if you come back to me or not but this will help you, okay?” she says as she shows me a notebook. I take it from her and she smiles. I sniffle and wipe my eyes again, flicking through the empty pages before I look back at her.
“Every time you feel scared, write down what you were doing before it happened. Every time you feel safe, write down what you did to feel that way. Eventually you’ll notice it’s the same things again and again and those are the things you need to avoid or encourage. This is just for you, Blaine. If you come back we’ll talk about it. But it’s yours and you don’t have to show anyone unless you want to, okay?” She explains and I nod in agreement.
“O-okay.” I whisper and my voice is still full of emotion.
“Thank you for coming here, Blaine. You’ve made so many big steps today. I know you’re still upset right now but you told me a lot of things you probably haven’t told anyone else before and that will make you feel lighter soon. I promise.” she says, sincerity burning in her eyes, and then, “Are you okay to go home with Mr Hummel, right now?”
“Y-yes. I think so.” I say quietly, balling the tissues in my hand. She stands then and I follow suit. We walk to the door in silence and my mind is racing, a hundred thousand thoughts racing through my head all at one.
“Take care of yourself, Blaine.” Ellen says then, as she opens the door, and I nod before I step out of the safety of her office and into the warmth of the waiting room.
The tears start sliding down my face again.
Burt walks straight over to me then, as the door behind me clicks shut, wrapping his arms tightly around my body. He doesn’t say anything, he just lets me cling to him, one of his hands moving up to cup the back of my head as my body starts to shudder. My face is in his shirt. A sob bursts past my lips and I feel it then, wet droplets falling onto my face and rolling down my neck.
But those tears aren’t mine. They’re Burt’s.
I press my face further into his chest then.
I let him hold me.
He lets me cry.
And I discover that home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.
o~o~o
Part 16.