Waiting for a Happy Ending - Part Four B
Title: Waiting for a Happy Ending
Author: firefly_ca
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt/Blaine, with appearances by Stevie and the Evans family, the Andersons, and large swaths of Glee clubbers (New Directions and Warblers)
Rating: NC-17 for disturbing themes, scenes, etc.
Word Count: TBD - Part 4 is 26K
Spoilers: All of S2, up to 3x05
Summary: AU. Blaine Anderson lived under another name for almost nine years with an abusive man he was forced to pretend was his father. He always thought his own family had given up on him, but now that he's found out the majority of his life was spent believing a lie, he has to try to reconcile the life he had with the life that was taken away from him. Sequel to Looking for a Happy Ending.
Note: Huge thanks to my betas LoonyLevicorpus and callmerayray for taking the fic and trying to help me avoid stupid typos and things that make no sense this time around. Any mistakes you find are all from last-minute edits I made before I posted. Because sometimes I can't leave good enough alone.
A/N - I'm changing up the format for this section of the story! So exciting! I'm taking my cue from the brilliant AU J2 fic The Doors of Time (which seriously, everyone should try to read it at least once if you watch SPN or not because it's that good. End plug), and when the time comes for the music, I am going to link up to a streaming audio of it, and if you don't have the Shockwave to listen to it, I'll also include a link to the download as well. This way, you just need to click on the play button when you see the player, or if that doesn't work, right-click and open in new window so it can play in the background while you read. I thought it might be an easier way to introduce the song for this particular scene, as it's quite crucial for the moment.
Also, remember this delightful little picture? It's a piece of fanart, so it's not canon, but Enafdemderredmedfane on Tumblr was wonderful enough to go back and find it for me when I was blanking on Warbler names. Any unfamiliar names you see came from here :)
"Okay troops, we need to focus!" Rachel's voice rings out over the chaos, authoritative and determined. "I'd like to thank you all for making it to this emergency meeting on such short notice."
"But we had a meeting anyhow," Nick sounds lost and a little crestfallen. "And you can't talk. I have the gavel."
"Oh right," Rachel says, reaching over to pluck it from Nick's hands and rap it sharply on the table, where she has wedged herself between the actual club leaders.
"Attention!" she calls out, "This emergency meeting will come to order, please!"
"Dammit, Warbler Kurt!" Wes snaps, snatching back the gavel. "Why did you bring her in with you? She's not a student here, she's not a Warbler, and she's not even a boy. She has no business at this meeting, let alone with our gavel."
"I didn't invite her," Kurt protests. "I don't even know how she got in."
"Can we please stop squabbling over trivialities and focus on the astronomical problem facing you gentlemen?" Rachel says, impatiently. "This isn't a game anymore, Warblers! Without my help, Vocal Adrenaline will destroy you and everything you hold dear."
"Because you have such a good track record at beating Vocal Adrenaline?" Kurt snarks. "Admit it, Rachel, you're just trying to get them out of the running now so that you don't have to go against them later."
"Yes I am," Rachel is shameless. "No offense, boys, but you are like tiny, squeaky little kittens compared to Vocal Adrenaline. You might get some points for being cute if we compete against you, but compared to the McKinley High glee club, you are uninspired and predictable. I'm positive you will be easily taken down by any one of my possible solo choices from my extensive Barbra catalogue."
"But isn't that good? People like kittens," Jeff protests, seemingly unworried about speaking out of turn, since nothing about this meeting is following standard procedure anyhow. Blaine isn't sure if Rachel's trying to be mean with her analogy or if she's just being Rachel, but unlike Jeff, he doesn't care about what she's saying at all, let alone what her intentions are. Deep down he knows he probably would if this were any other time, but something about the fact that he's spent weeks stuck in what feels like an emotionless vacuum, where the only feelings that sneak through are via unavoidable night terrors, makes singing pop songs better than a handful of self-absorbed high schoolers fairly low on his priority list. The longer he listens to Rachel prattle on, the more upset he becomes about his lack of caring. Everything about his feelings is confusing and impossible. He's starting to worry that he's losing his mind from being trapped inside it for too long.
Kurt is looking at him worriedly and at first Blaine doesn't understand why, but then he realizes that Rachel has started to talk about him specifically and how his arrival has cemented their likable bubbly singing style, making him at once their greatest asset and biggest liability. Blaine doesn't know why Kurt thinks he even has the energy to be bothered by that, but before long Kurt can't take it anymore and starts being offended on his behalf.
"There's nothing wrong with Blaine's presentation, Rachel," he says firmly.
"Aside from the fact that he can't sing anything with more substance than Katy Perry and old O Town singles," Rachel says. "I'm not trying to hurt anyone's feelings, Kurt. Of course Blaine is very good at what he does, and his shallow, meaningless, feel-good repertoire is a delightful fit for this club, but it's all you do. Vocal Adrenaline is on to you guys. Maybe they've been watching your senior's home performances, I don't know, but they've discovered your weakness. I had Lauren bug the Carmel choir room and do you know what they have Sunshine Corazon singing this year? 'It's All Coming Back to Me Now.' Celine Dion ghost romance, Kurt! Do you honestly think Blaine bopping around on stage singing 'Spice up Your Life' will compete with that?"
Blaine's mood lifts marginally when he sees Wes's eyes light up before he scribbles something into his notebook, like the idea had never occurred to him before.
"I understand where you're coming from, um, non-Warbler Rachel," Thad says, stumbling a little over his words as he tries to come up with an acceptable title. "We fully recognize the inherent danger in facing off against Vocal Adrenaline so early in the competitive season. That's why we agreed to turn this meeting into an emergency meeting, despite the fact that we never held a meeting to vote on it first."
He clears his throat a little and addresses the room.
"Fellow Warblers," he says. "In light of the dire situation we find ourselves in, the council has made the decision to hold open auditions to create a new and improved set list for Sectionals."
The Warbler equivalent to bedlam erupts in the room as everyone begins talking over each other, nervously. Even Blaine raises his eyebrows a little. Auditions with the Warblers are always carefully planned out. You have to get an invitation to try out for each pre-determined solo. Even Blaine has to audition for the leads, because although they seem to worship the ground he walks on, violating tradition and just giving him the parts would be unthinkable. Open auditions are a sign of end times in this glee club. Rachel at least seems happy about the way things are going, though, and she claps her hands together in excitement.
"I was hoping this would happen! I've taken the liberty of arranging accompaniment so you don't have to worry about providing it for yourselves and getting distracted from the task at hand. On-the-spot acappella can be very problematic."
She skips over to the piano and Blaine starts a little because there's been a strange man sitting there, probably the entire meeting and he hadn't even noticed. He'd be more alarmed, but the guy is obviously there with Rachel and looks a little familiar besides. He's trying to figure it out when Kurt solves the mystery, disgustedly blurting out,
"Rachel, you made Brad come here with you, too? Did you even ask first or did you just knock him out and toss him in the backseat? God you're selfish sometimes! Did it ever occur to you that he has better things to do? He could have had...I don't know...papers to mark? Maybe?"
He loses momentum as he looks at the New Directions accompanist a little helplessly before stammering,
"Um...F-floors to sweep? Sorry Brad, I just...are - are you a... What do you do at McKinley when you aren't playing the piano for us?"
Brad stares at him impassively and doesn't say a word, so Rachel takes the opportunity to leap to her own defense.
"I swear I wasn't going to bring him, Kurt," she says. "But I just, I ran into him on the way out and told him what I was doing and he looked so sad that I wasn't inviting him to come with me. I couldn't just leave him, Kurt."
She looks so earnest and sincere, and Brad so decidedly uninterested that it makes Blaine think about how his sister sometimes fights to take Mrs. Frisby with her to school some mornings because "she'll get lonely" without her there. Blaine is pretty certain neither Brad nor Mrs. Frisby give a fuck where they're dragged off to, just so long as no one tries to ruffle their hair or talk to them in a condescending tone as it's happening. He sits there staring at the wall for a while as he absently ponders all the ways Brad is more cat than person when he suddenly realizes that everyone in the room is looking at him.
"Blaine?" Rachel repeats, looking at him expectantly. "You're lead vocalist. Do you have any numbers you think would be helpful in propelling your team to victory?"
"I think I'd better sit this one out," Blaine says, finally. He notices none of the other Warblers are disagreeing with him, each of them probably remembering the disaster it's been every time he's tried to sing lead for them in the last few weeks. Rachel stares at him hard for a minute before emitting an annoyed sound and turning her attention back to Brad and the piano.
***
A few hours later and things still aren't looking much better. The auditions so far haven't brought the results Rachel is clearly desperate for. They've been at it so long they've even had to break for supper, but they're no closer to finding the elusive magical number that's going to give them an edge over Vocal Adrenaline.
It has been decided that the strongest song combination for a set list will be to begin with something fun ("To catch them off their guard before we slaughter their chickens and salt their land," says Cameron, who is getting way too into this), then move to something a little slower to serve as a transition into the Showstopper, which can be whatever the hell it wants to be so long as it makes the judges weep so hard they can't pay attention to the other competitors.
The fun song has never been a problem: they'll stick with their original choice of "Uptown Girl," even though when they do a quick run through everyone instantly agrees with Rachel when she suggests it might be better if they took Blaine's part and divided it up among some of the other reliable soloists. Nick looks like a combination of impossibly happy and inconsolably guilty when the bulk of the number falls to him. It doesn't matter how many times Blaine tells him it's alright and he's not upset, Nick still looks a little bit like he wants to cry every time someone congratulates him.
It takes a lot longer to find a slow song, so long that Kurt makes a point of grabbing his phone to text Blaine's parents to warn that they'll be late. Blaine absently wonders when Kurt started acting like a better son to his parents than he did, but he's not surprised that Kurt is the one to think about it first. Kurt is always so good at looking after people, and these days Blaine can barely find the energy to tie his own shoes, let alone impress his parents. Even in the meeting he's mostly just sitting on the couch, staring at Kurt's hand in his and the way Kurt's thumb brushes up and down the tops of his fingers. He wonders how long it will take everyone to realize how little he's contributing now that they're starting to get desperate.
The problem seems to be that their best contender for a slow song is Kurt's cover of "Black Bird" which unfortunately also the closest thing they have to a showstopper, too. No one argues that Kurt is capable of singing the hell out of the number, but like Rachel says,
"It's so subdued. You can't beat an over-emotive power ballad with subtlety. People pay attention to whoever sings loudest. If you would just agree to something from - "
"Rachel, drop it!" Kurt snaps. "I've already told you that The Assassins is going to alienate the judges if I sing it out of context and even if it wouldn't, acappella Sondheim arrangements are show choir suicide. Broadway is off the table, Berry. You need to accept it and move on."
Blaine agrees, if only because Kurt has made him listen to The Assassins soundtrack before, and so far as over-emotive torch songs go, there have got to be better options to beat a Celine Dion medley than love songs dedicated to serial-killing cult leaders. He stays out of it, though, letting his eyes drift shut slightly. He's so that tired he hopes Kurt will elbow him if he actually falls asleep, because he knows his detached attitude is worrying the rest of the club, but watching him wake up crying probably won't make them feel any better. Fortunately he's yanked back to attention by Rachel, who has paused for breath long enough to notice his total lack of giving a shit.
"I'm sorry Blaine," she says, full of false sympathy. "Are we disturbing you? I didn't realize my effort to save your entire club from premature destruction was interfering with the lead singer's nap time."
"Knock it off, Rachel," Kurt sing-songs out in an equally irritated tone.
"He's your lead singer, Kurt," Rachel protests. "And I understand that he's going through a hard time, but maybe if he can't handle it he shouldn't be your lead singer, no matter how much you all like him. What chance do you guys have if you're betting all your success on him and he doesn't even care?"
"I care," Blaine says, because in a way he sort of does. At least, he wants to care, for the sake of his friends, and because caring would mean he's not hollowed out and broken. "It's just complicated right now, that's all. And besides, I wouldn't be any help for this sort of thing anyhow. I've never sung a serious song in my life, Rachel. I don't mind listening or anything, but I've never been able to sing the way you and Kurt can."
"You're not good at it because you don't let yourself be good at it," Rachel says stubbornly. "I know you don't believe me, but I know what makes good singing, Blaine. Practise, hard work, and dedication are only small parts of it. If you want the people listening to connect to the music, you have to convince them that you can, too. If you can't actually do that, you have to be able to pretend so well that they don't question it. At the risk of Kurt yelling at me again, we all know you're good at hiding your problems and acting like you're happy, but you're awful at admitting how much you hurt. Maybe it's time to give up the act? We all have televisions, Blaine. Everyone knows your life isn't perfect, so what's the problem with admitting that you're not? Is it because you're embarrassed? Because - "
"Rachel," Kurt hisses, scowling at her. Rachel looks a little sheepish but is by no means through.
"I could apologize for that but I won't," She says. "Your refusal to help us now confirms what I've thought about you ever since you started spending time with Quinn Fabray: You can't help the people who need you because you don't want to help yourself."
Blaine is dimly aware of Kurt letting go of his hand and rising to his feet as he starts to light into Rachel, but he cuts him off, quietly.
"You really think I haven't tried to get past everything?" He asks her.
Rachel looks shocked that he even bothered to answer, but manages,
"I think sometimes you probably try, but the very fact that you just admitted you're trying to get past everything all at once proves that you have no idea how to deal with this effectively."
"And you do?" Blaine counters. "I'm the one who has to deal with all of this, Rachel, not you. You're just a self-absorbed teenager who gets frustrated when things don't go her way and actually thinks she's so smart she's telling me something I haven't heard dozens of times before. I can't just shake this off, okay?"
Rachel's gaze is unflinching.
"I'm very frustrated things aren't going the way I need them to," she says. "But that's not why I'm saying this to you. You scare me sometimes, Blaine. Especially lately. Each time I talk to you it's like that night you got drunk but now you're not even crying. You're just...empty, and I don't understand why you're doing this to yourself because it doesn't have to be this way."
"How do you know that?" Blaine asks. "How do you know what I should be acting like right now?"
"I don't know how you should be acting," Rachel says. "But I know you sing, and the first and most important reason a person sings is that it makes them feel good. It doesn't matter how famous or how talented you are, if you aren't singing because you get something out of it, you shouldn't do it. And sometimes when I sing it's all an act, just like it is for you, but sometimes I feel things so much, singing is the only way to push out those feelings so I can start feeling like me again. Maybe you can't sing the fun songs right now because there are too many bad things in your head for you to be able to pretend anymore. Maybe it's time to stop pretending."
"And you all want to, what?" Blaine asks. "Sit here and watch to see if I crack?"
"The people in this room are your friends," Rachel says, gently and more sincere than Blaine has ever heard her. "Isn't it better to crack in a room full of people who love you and want to help you instead all alone?"
Blaine stares at her for a few minutes. She makes it sound so easy, like she's not asking him to let go of every shred of control he has that's keeping him together, like she's not asking him to risk falling so far into himself he might never come back again. But he's so tired of feeling blank. All he wants is to feel like he belongs in his own body again. No one is saying anything. Finally Kurt sits back down and rests his hand on Blaine's knee. The contact spurs him into action like it's a starting gun and before he can think about it he's looking at Brad and saying,
"I don't have sheet music."
"Brad knows a lot of songs," Kurt says. "Do you have a song you want to try? You can always ask and see if he can play it."
After hesitating another second or two Blaine forces himself to his feet, walking to the piano as he digs in his pocket for his iPod. He has no idea why he's letting himself be talked into this. It's not that he's worried nothing will happen. He's scared that it will, especially when he opens the Most Played playlist on his iPod and sees which song is staring at him in the number one spot. There's a chance this is going to be an absolute trainwreck because this has been such a long time coming. Still, he shows it to Brad anyhow and asks,
"Do you know any Weezer?"
Alternate link
Brad glances at the song and nods before settling in front of the piano and waiting for Blaine to give him the go-ahead. When it doesn't come he just starts counting down from three on his fingers before beginning to play. Blaine doesn't turn around to face the room right away, just stands there watching Brad play out the intro. His hands are sweating and he feels hot and cold at the same time. This was not a good idea.
But when he has to start singing, it's not as bad as he thought it would be. His voice breaks a little when he starts too quietly but it's mostly clear and controlled. He feels himself relax a little. It's a slow starting song, and Blaine almost feels his mind start to drift away to other things against his will, like what usually happens if he sings without trying to perform for anyone. But this time his thoughts have nowhere to wander to. He's so tired that there's nothing else to focus on or think about besides the words. The low-grade anxiety starts to build up inside of him as the words seem to gain weight and settle in the pit of his stomach.
Blaine pushes away from the piano but isn't paying much attention to the rest of the room as it swims in and out of focus in front of him. It's like singing about the darkness actually made the lights go out, because in this moment he feels completely alone, like he's eight-years-old again, wondering where his mom and dad are, and what they're doing and if they're sorry they sent him away. He can feel how much they don't care about him and it fucking hurts.
They gave him away and left him with a monster who took him away, who told him no one loved him and tore him apart inside, even though Blaine never did anything wrong. He was broken so that he'd stop fighting and accept what was happening to him, what kept happening so many times Blaine couldn't even count all of them for Detective Warren. Quinn wasn't lying that one time she said he'd been turned into a toy. Tom made him less than a person and knowing now that it had only worked because he'd lied to Blaine about everything doesn't help like it usually does. It makes it worse, because it still happened either way, but now it hadn't even happened for a real reason.
He'd been alone for over half his life. His parents were stolen away from him and replaced by dreams, uncaring and impossible to hold onto. His world became so small that he latched onto something terrible and convinced himself it wasn't as hopeless as it had been so that he wouldn't get lost. Blaine sold his soul to the man who kept him in hell for the chance to pretend he was somewhere else, somewhere somebody loved him, and now he can't stop shaking and the choir room is a blur in front of him.
He's dimly aware of the song ending and someone pulling him into their arms as they lead him to a place to sit, but he can't piece together who it is, too busy trying to fight his way past all the thoughts and feelings racing around his mind and making the tears streak down his face. The arms keep holding him tightly and he feels a hand running up and down his back. Slowly he fades back into reality, slumping down a little in Kurt's arms as the shaking slowly starts to lessen. The room is completely silent. Blaine can't even hear breathing over the sounds of his own shuddering gasping, but he knows that they're all still there. He can feel their eyes on him, watching.
Finally someone, Trent, Blaine thinks, gasps out a thick-sounding "holy shit," launching the room into motion. Wes is the first to his feet and Blaine just manages to catch a glimpse of his normally stoic friend before he feels him sitting down on the empty seat next to him and wrapping his arms around him along with Kurt. Jeff joins in next, and then Thad. Suddenly Blaine is trapped at the centre of the biggest group hug he's ever seen. Even Brad wanders over to pat Blaine a little absently on the head after he's wiped off his glasses. It looks stupid, Blaine knows it has to look stupid, but at the same time he doesn't care, because he feels safe, because remembering where he used to be makes right now feel that much more real. He couldn't get away from Warblers right now if he tried, but he knows nothing can reach him, either.
Only Rachel remains on the outside, still rooted to her spot on the far side of the couch. She's looking straight at Blaine when he glances in her direction, with an expression of absolute distress written across her features, like now that she's gotten what she was asking for it's too much for her to deal with. She almost looks betrayed, like she never knew Blaine was carrying this inside of him and she's hurt that he kept it from her. Blaine has the horrible fleeting thought that now he knows what expression she'll wear if she ever gets hit by a spouse, but he's not mad at her, not really. It's not her fault that everything about him turns into something ugly and painful, and right now, in the middle of a group of people who care about him and only want to help him, the relief pushes out any room he has for anger.
***
If Blaine were to get his way, he would spend the next week huddled in a ball in his room, crying himself sick, but he's quickly learning that his friends at Dalton aren't the sort of friends who can handle the idea of someone suffering alone. Every minute of his day seems to be taken up by the Warblers, who are so determined to be there for him that it's impossible to get away from them. They're so invested in making sure Blaine has someone to talk to every time his emotions start to overwhelm him that sometimes all Blaine wants is to find one place in all of the damned academy that isn't infested with acappella singers who seem to be baffled as to why anyone would want to cry without a friend watching.
Wes and Thad start an intensive rehearsal schedule almost immediately so that he can get "Hold Me" ready in time for sectionals. Blaine knows that Vocal Adrenaline is one of the best show choirs in America, but he has his doubts that the constant practise is as much about where they place in competition as it is an excuse to monitor how he's feeling at any given time.
"That's really good, Blaine," Thad says one time not long after they've started, grinning hugely. "You didn't lose your voice at the start of the second verse this time. I hope it's because you're working through your issues instead of pretending they aren't there like before. Do you need to talk about your feelings now?"
Blaine declines the offer as politely as he can, but he's not mad about it. Thad is so earnest and excited at the idea of helping Blaine feel better just for Blaine's sake; it's hard to hold it against him, even though he knows he'll never take him up on the offer. He does talk to Wes a few times, one night in particular when he's freaking out about a conversation his parents had with him earlier in the day. Wes has just been teaching Blaine a few breathing techniques to help him from getting pitchy during the bridge when he asks, like he always does, if there's anything Blaine wants to talk about, tonight adding,
"You seem a little more distracted than usual."
Blaine almost tells him nothing is wrong, but Kurt is holed away in his room working on a paper for a class Blaine isn't qualified to take yet, unaware that there's a problem, which is how Blaine wants to keep it. Kurt doesn't complain about it, but Blaine knows how hard he works to keep his grades up so he can stay at Dalton on the scholarships and not have to force his father to work any harder than he already does. It's hard to make good grades when you're constantly helping somebody else fight their way through mountains of personal problems. Blaine knows that talking about his problems won't help solve them in the way he wants them solved, and that Wes might be the most uptight person in all of Dalton, probably unable to give spontaneous reassurance unless he has a manual in front of him, but the weird claustrophobic sensation that accompanied his latest meltdown is creeping back in and with everything still so raw inside him from the last time, he doesn't want to risk another episode like what happened before. He doesn't have the energy to deal with something like that twice.
"My parents told me that the prosecution lawyer thinks I'm going to have to testify in front of the guy who took me," he says.
Wes's eyes get wide and he sits down beside Blaine on the piano seat hard.
"Why?" he asks.
Blaine shrugs.
"The only way they can convict him on even half of what he's charged with is if I tell them about it. Most of the evidence is only from when he took us. Everything else they have to hear about from me."
"But it's still not fair that they make you talk about it in front of everyone," Wes says.
"I knew that would happen anyway," Blaine says. "One of the very first things they told us is they'd need me to testify. Even Stevie might have to, but if he does they'll probably let him do it in another room so he doesn't have to see Brenner again. Because he's so little they think seeing him again would be too hard. I wanted to know if I could do the same thing, but apparently the lawyer was talking to my dad again this weekend and no one thinks a judge will go for it, because I'm so much older. They prefer keeping you in the same room as the jury or something, I don't know, but the main thing is I have to talk to room full of people and reporters who get to hear about all the things he used to do to me and I have to stare at the him the whole time. He had me for almost nine years. It's not going to be a quick interview."
Wes purses his lips together and is quiet for a moment before saying, "My dad's a lawyer. I could ask him about it tonight, but you're probably right, because I heard him mention a while ago that the guy prosecuting your case was really good. But maybe the judge will let you work something out, anyhow? And at least you might get a little bit of privacy when it does go to trial. With the kind of a case this is, I'm sure there's no way they wouldn't put gag orders on the media. They do it with a lot of cases where the victims are kids."
"Maybe," Blaine says. He's quiet for a moment before adding, "Thank you for not offering to sing me anything."
Wes sniffs a little and says, "Well, you never seem too appreciative all the other times we offer, so I thought it might not be your thing."
"It's really not," Blaine agrees.
Wes turns in his spot a little and looks at him like he's assessing a math problem before asking,
"Are hugs your thing? Because I feel like now might be a good time to offer one."
Blaine sighs a little, not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. He settles for a little of both at the same time as he says,
"Go ahead. One arm only though."
"That was the plan," Wes says as he slings his arm across Blaine's shoulders and pulls him a little closer. Blaine doesn't exactly lean in, but he lets Wes keep his arm where it is and doesn't pull away as he stares at the doors on the other side of the room, blinking rapidly and furtively wiping his nose with the sleeve of his blazer. Wes doesn't even comment on Blaine's lack of respect for the Dalton uniform, other than helpfully pointing out,
"You know, the blazers have a breast pocket where you can keep a nicely folded handkerchief. I like using Dalton colours for mine. I find it really brightens the whole jacket up a lot in addition to being practical."
Blaine laughs again and sees Wes smile a little out of the corner of his eye, too, holding onto Blaine's arm a little tighter.
While Wes favours the ask-then-hug approach when dealing with Blaine, not everyone ascribes to the same school of thought when it comes to physical contact. Nick seems to be intent on clapping Blaine on the shoulder each time they see each other, and smiling encouragingly as he asks how Blaine is doing since the last time they spoke. And that's every time they see each other, even when they've been assigned to different work groups in class and have spent less than 20 minutes on other sides of the room. Like clockwork, Nick repeats the same almost-compulsive ritual when he's back in front of Blaine:
Shoulder-clap. "Hi! How are you and how have you been? Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" Smaller shoulder-clap. Smaller shoulder-clap. Silence that would be uncomfortable except for the enormous, unassuming, completely authentic grin spreading across his co-Warbler's features, like the awkwardness of his actions still hasn't occurred to him.
Jeff can't see him without rushing into his space and giving him a hug instead of saying hello like a normal, fully sane person. Trent can't leave without giving him a long hug goodbye.
"Finn would never believe this," Kurt says, laughing one day at the end of another long Warbler practise, as has been mandated by Rachel Berry, who now seems to be their unofficial-official consultant for sectionals. "The guys at McKinley show affection by punching you hard enough to bruise, even when they're being nice."
"I remember," Blaine says over Trent's shoulder as he pats him amiably on the back. "One time after we started hanging out, Puck told me to bring extra clothes to school the next day, because he had decided we were 'bros' and was going to toss me into the dumpster to celebrate. He said he felt bad for doing it to you for so long so he decided the best way to make up for it was to throw all of his other guy friends into garbage containers, too. So you wouldn't feel different."
"Your public school friends are the reason my parents vowed to always send me to private schools," Trent comments, still hugging. "My mother used to tell me that if I was going to learn a pointless activity, it would be which fork is the proper one to eat salad with, not communication through barbarism."
"Good for her!" Kurt smiles, as he gently pries Trent away and grabs Blaine by the hand, waving his goodbyes as they walk off in the other direction.
Barbaric customs of the public school system notwithstanding, Blaine can't exactly pretend that the Warblers are his only friends in the world, either. The constant interaction that began after his fight with Kurt doesn't ease up at all after Rachel sees him break down at the audition. Sam is one of the first to worm his way into Blaine's home to check up on him after hearing the story from Rachel, calling up one Saturday to trick Blaine into offering up an invitation.
"Should you really be spending your energy worrying about me when you've got your brother to deal with?" Blaine asks.
"Stevie's doing pretty good at the moment, actually," Sam says. "I think he's been working through things faster than you. Rachel thinks it's because he hasn't had as much practise lying to himself as you have."
"Rachel would think that," Blaine says. "She was having a great time at practise, telling me all about my problems."
"It's almost becoming her new thing," Sam says, confidentially. "Like, the other day she was talking to Puck about his pool cleaning business and asking why he thinks he needs to sell himself to find validation or something like that. Finn says she's been making him steal Kurt's armchair psychology books from the house while Kurt's at Dalton during the week, too. Oh... Um, don't tell him that. I promised that would die with me."
"So why are you calling?" Blaine asks. "No offense, but we're not really the kinds of friends who call to catch up, Sam."
"Right," Sam says. "About that Rachel thing. Stevie heard her the other day when we were trying to keep her from getting close enough to give him a motivational speech, when she was talking about how upset you got in the choir room. He's sort of been fixating on you all week. Keeps asking if he can come visit, so Rachel volunteered to drive us up there today so he could see you. But I wasn't about to do that without asking first."
"Oh," Blaine says, trying to think of a polite way to turn down the offer. He's still so tired and things have gotten so confused in his head again since things fell apart in the choir room, he's not sure if he can handle seeing people he feels he has to be strong for, not without rebuilding some of his walls. But then Sam says,
"It's okay, you know. If you don't want to see him right now? We'll understand."
"I want to see him," Blaine says, because if he's being honest with himself, most days he still thinks Stevie would be a better sibling than Cynthia. His voice shakes a little when he continues, "I just don't want him to see me like this."
"You don't have to be perfect for him," Sam says, gently. "We always tell him this is hard for you, too. That he's not the only person who's had something awful happen to him and that it's normal to not be able to pretend like everything's okay. He's not expecting you to be fine. He knows better."
"I don't want to scare him," Blaine says, quietly. "I'm all over the place right now."
"I'd rather him see you like this than the way you were acting a couple weeks ago," Sam says. "What's happening to you isn't fun for anyone to see, but the way you were acting before was just scary. I'd see you out shopping with Kurt and Mercedes and I wasn't even brave enough to go up and say hi to you guys. I was positive that any day I'd be have to explain to Stevie what suicide is."
"I was that bad?" Blaine asks.
"I don't know," Sam says. "Maybe not, but you looked like you had already checked out."
In the end they come over to visit late in the afternoon. Stevie makes a beeline for Blaine and immediately starts talking his ear off about a book they've been reading in class at school, while Sam waves shyly at the adults and tries to engage in small talk. Rachel makes herself at home and dumps her things onto the dining room table before taking a seat.
"College applications," she smiles when she notices Blaine staring.
"I thought you already applied to NYADA with Kurt," Blaine says.
Rachel's face clouds over for a minute before she smiles even wider and says,
"Things change, Blaine. I had to share the lead in West Side Story this year with Mercedes, and when I tried to rectify that glaring hole in my extracurriculars by running for student body president, I got beaten by a girl who I admire and respect very much, but still thinks that people with accents have magical powers. I need to be open to the possibility that my calling doesn't lie in the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts."
"Where are you applying instead?" He asks. "Julliard? Tisch?"
Rachel only shrugs noncommittally, and looks a little like her thoughts are racing ahead too fast to keep up with as she unsuccessfully tries to lean forward enough to block her application from view and maintain her perfect posture. Blaine decides it's not worth it and lets her have her space.
By the time Kurt shows up for the evening, Cynthia has determined that so many people in the house at one time constitutes a party and convinces their parents to order in pizza. Blaine watches in amusement after it arrives and his little sister looks on in abject horror as Rachel tries to encourage her to try some of her vegan pizza and extolls the benefits of giving up bacon to a little girl who is still trying to come to terms with the fact that it's not its own food group yet. He can almost see Quinn's coolness increasing the longer Rachel talks.
The evening is a surprisingly pleasant one, all things considered. Stevie is happy enough, and the flurry of commotion around him is distracting enough to keep Blaine's mind off how uneasy he feels. It's not until he's sitting on the couch after dinner, listening to Kurt catch up with Sam and Rachel about what's been happening at McKinley that Blaine starts to feel the dull ache start to make itself known again. He stays quiet about it, not wanting to make yet another evening at his parent's house all about him, until Stevie abandons whatever game Cynthia is trying to force him into playing with her to sit down next to him and lean into his side.
Neither of them say anything for a while, but the longer Stevie sits there the tighter Blaine's chest feels, because suddenly all he can think about is how fucking messed up everything is for them from here on out. His eyes start tearing up and his throat hurts from trying to hold everything back for too long, and this is why he didn't want Stevie to come over. His emotions are suddenly too hard to control when he's not alone. Having someone who he feels directly responsible for letting down sitting beside him amplifies everything until Blaine doesn't know if he'll be able to take it.
"Are you going to cry?" Stevie asks, looking up at him almost appraisingly. "You're breathing funny."
Blaine doesn't look at anyone, but he can feel the room go silent and the focus turns on him and what he's doing.
"Sorry," Blaine says, as he tries to calm the unsteady intake of air. "I'm not going to cry."
His credibility is instantly shattered as soon as he starts speaking though, and the first couple tears roll down his face before he can brush them away.
"Sorry," he mutters again.
"It's okay," Stevie says, leaning back against him. "I don't mind. Sometimes I cry, too. Everyone needs to cry so everyone's allowed to cry sometimes. Dr. Hong said it makes you feel better after."
"I don't feel better yet," Blaine says.
"You haven't been doing it long enough yet," Stevie tells him, unconcerned. "Can we watch a movie?"
It takes a while before they find something that Stevie and Cynthia both want to watch, but eventually something gets turned on, and they start watching. Stevie stays where he is, and soon Kurt sits down on Blaine's other side and puts an arm across his back. Blaine doesn't stop crying but no one seems to feel the need to make him talk about it. Occasionally Kurt moves his hand up to Blaine's hair and runs a hand through it if Blaine starts to look like the tears might start falling any faster, but that's the only acknowledgment anyone gives that anything is out of the ordinary. No one's ignoring him, exactly. They're just letting him do what he needs to do. By the time the credits roll and the Evanses and Rachel leave he's done for the time being, but the reprieve isn't one that lasts. He falls asleep stretched out on the couch with his head in Kurt's lap, tears still running silently down his face. He's not sure, but he thinks when he wakes up hours later to Kurt's voice as he apologises to his father for sleeping past his curfew, he might finally be beginning to feel a little lighter.
To Part Four C
Author: firefly_ca
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt/Blaine, with appearances by Stevie and the Evans family, the Andersons, and large swaths of Glee clubbers (New Directions and Warblers)
Rating: NC-17 for disturbing themes, scenes, etc.
Word Count: TBD - Part 4 is 26K
Spoilers: All of S2, up to 3x05
Summary: AU. Blaine Anderson lived under another name for almost nine years with an abusive man he was forced to pretend was his father. He always thought his own family had given up on him, but now that he's found out the majority of his life was spent believing a lie, he has to try to reconcile the life he had with the life that was taken away from him. Sequel to Looking for a Happy Ending.
Note: Huge thanks to my betas LoonyLevicorpus and callmerayray for taking the fic and trying to help me avoid stupid typos and things that make no sense this time around. Any mistakes you find are all from last-minute edits I made before I posted. Because sometimes I can't leave good enough alone.
A/N - I'm changing up the format for this section of the story! So exciting! I'm taking my cue from the brilliant AU J2 fic The Doors of Time (which seriously, everyone should try to read it at least once if you watch SPN or not because it's that good. End plug), and when the time comes for the music, I am going to link up to a streaming audio of it, and if you don't have the Shockwave to listen to it, I'll also include a link to the download as well. This way, you just need to click on the play button when you see the player, or if that doesn't work, right-click and open in new window so it can play in the background while you read. I thought it might be an easier way to introduce the song for this particular scene, as it's quite crucial for the moment.
Also, remember this delightful little picture? It's a piece of fanart, so it's not canon, but Enafdemderredmedfane on Tumblr was wonderful enough to go back and find it for me when I was blanking on Warbler names. Any unfamiliar names you see came from here :)
"Okay troops, we need to focus!" Rachel's voice rings out over the chaos, authoritative and determined. "I'd like to thank you all for making it to this emergency meeting on such short notice."
"But we had a meeting anyhow," Nick sounds lost and a little crestfallen. "And you can't talk. I have the gavel."
"Oh right," Rachel says, reaching over to pluck it from Nick's hands and rap it sharply on the table, where she has wedged herself between the actual club leaders.
"Attention!" she calls out, "This emergency meeting will come to order, please!"
"Dammit, Warbler Kurt!" Wes snaps, snatching back the gavel. "Why did you bring her in with you? She's not a student here, she's not a Warbler, and she's not even a boy. She has no business at this meeting, let alone with our gavel."
"I didn't invite her," Kurt protests. "I don't even know how she got in."
"Can we please stop squabbling over trivialities and focus on the astronomical problem facing you gentlemen?" Rachel says, impatiently. "This isn't a game anymore, Warblers! Without my help, Vocal Adrenaline will destroy you and everything you hold dear."
"Because you have such a good track record at beating Vocal Adrenaline?" Kurt snarks. "Admit it, Rachel, you're just trying to get them out of the running now so that you don't have to go against them later."
"Yes I am," Rachel is shameless. "No offense, boys, but you are like tiny, squeaky little kittens compared to Vocal Adrenaline. You might get some points for being cute if we compete against you, but compared to the McKinley High glee club, you are uninspired and predictable. I'm positive you will be easily taken down by any one of my possible solo choices from my extensive Barbra catalogue."
"But isn't that good? People like kittens," Jeff protests, seemingly unworried about speaking out of turn, since nothing about this meeting is following standard procedure anyhow. Blaine isn't sure if Rachel's trying to be mean with her analogy or if she's just being Rachel, but unlike Jeff, he doesn't care about what she's saying at all, let alone what her intentions are. Deep down he knows he probably would if this were any other time, but something about the fact that he's spent weeks stuck in what feels like an emotionless vacuum, where the only feelings that sneak through are via unavoidable night terrors, makes singing pop songs better than a handful of self-absorbed high schoolers fairly low on his priority list. The longer he listens to Rachel prattle on, the more upset he becomes about his lack of caring. Everything about his feelings is confusing and impossible. He's starting to worry that he's losing his mind from being trapped inside it for too long.
Kurt is looking at him worriedly and at first Blaine doesn't understand why, but then he realizes that Rachel has started to talk about him specifically and how his arrival has cemented their likable bubbly singing style, making him at once their greatest asset and biggest liability. Blaine doesn't know why Kurt thinks he even has the energy to be bothered by that, but before long Kurt can't take it anymore and starts being offended on his behalf.
"There's nothing wrong with Blaine's presentation, Rachel," he says firmly.
"Aside from the fact that he can't sing anything with more substance than Katy Perry and old O Town singles," Rachel says. "I'm not trying to hurt anyone's feelings, Kurt. Of course Blaine is very good at what he does, and his shallow, meaningless, feel-good repertoire is a delightful fit for this club, but it's all you do. Vocal Adrenaline is on to you guys. Maybe they've been watching your senior's home performances, I don't know, but they've discovered your weakness. I had Lauren bug the Carmel choir room and do you know what they have Sunshine Corazon singing this year? 'It's All Coming Back to Me Now.' Celine Dion ghost romance, Kurt! Do you honestly think Blaine bopping around on stage singing 'Spice up Your Life' will compete with that?"
Blaine's mood lifts marginally when he sees Wes's eyes light up before he scribbles something into his notebook, like the idea had never occurred to him before.
"I understand where you're coming from, um, non-Warbler Rachel," Thad says, stumbling a little over his words as he tries to come up with an acceptable title. "We fully recognize the inherent danger in facing off against Vocal Adrenaline so early in the competitive season. That's why we agreed to turn this meeting into an emergency meeting, despite the fact that we never held a meeting to vote on it first."
He clears his throat a little and addresses the room.
"Fellow Warblers," he says. "In light of the dire situation we find ourselves in, the council has made the decision to hold open auditions to create a new and improved set list for Sectionals."
The Warbler equivalent to bedlam erupts in the room as everyone begins talking over each other, nervously. Even Blaine raises his eyebrows a little. Auditions with the Warblers are always carefully planned out. You have to get an invitation to try out for each pre-determined solo. Even Blaine has to audition for the leads, because although they seem to worship the ground he walks on, violating tradition and just giving him the parts would be unthinkable. Open auditions are a sign of end times in this glee club. Rachel at least seems happy about the way things are going, though, and she claps her hands together in excitement.
"I was hoping this would happen! I've taken the liberty of arranging accompaniment so you don't have to worry about providing it for yourselves and getting distracted from the task at hand. On-the-spot acappella can be very problematic."
She skips over to the piano and Blaine starts a little because there's been a strange man sitting there, probably the entire meeting and he hadn't even noticed. He'd be more alarmed, but the guy is obviously there with Rachel and looks a little familiar besides. He's trying to figure it out when Kurt solves the mystery, disgustedly blurting out,
"Rachel, you made Brad come here with you, too? Did you even ask first or did you just knock him out and toss him in the backseat? God you're selfish sometimes! Did it ever occur to you that he has better things to do? He could have had...I don't know...papers to mark? Maybe?"
He loses momentum as he looks at the New Directions accompanist a little helplessly before stammering,
"Um...F-floors to sweep? Sorry Brad, I just...are - are you a... What do you do at McKinley when you aren't playing the piano for us?"
Brad stares at him impassively and doesn't say a word, so Rachel takes the opportunity to leap to her own defense.
"I swear I wasn't going to bring him, Kurt," she says. "But I just, I ran into him on the way out and told him what I was doing and he looked so sad that I wasn't inviting him to come with me. I couldn't just leave him, Kurt."
She looks so earnest and sincere, and Brad so decidedly uninterested that it makes Blaine think about how his sister sometimes fights to take Mrs. Frisby with her to school some mornings because "she'll get lonely" without her there. Blaine is pretty certain neither Brad nor Mrs. Frisby give a fuck where they're dragged off to, just so long as no one tries to ruffle their hair or talk to them in a condescending tone as it's happening. He sits there staring at the wall for a while as he absently ponders all the ways Brad is more cat than person when he suddenly realizes that everyone in the room is looking at him.
"Blaine?" Rachel repeats, looking at him expectantly. "You're lead vocalist. Do you have any numbers you think would be helpful in propelling your team to victory?"
"I think I'd better sit this one out," Blaine says, finally. He notices none of the other Warblers are disagreeing with him, each of them probably remembering the disaster it's been every time he's tried to sing lead for them in the last few weeks. Rachel stares at him hard for a minute before emitting an annoyed sound and turning her attention back to Brad and the piano.
***
A few hours later and things still aren't looking much better. The auditions so far haven't brought the results Rachel is clearly desperate for. They've been at it so long they've even had to break for supper, but they're no closer to finding the elusive magical number that's going to give them an edge over Vocal Adrenaline.
It has been decided that the strongest song combination for a set list will be to begin with something fun ("To catch them off their guard before we slaughter their chickens and salt their land," says Cameron, who is getting way too into this), then move to something a little slower to serve as a transition into the Showstopper, which can be whatever the hell it wants to be so long as it makes the judges weep so hard they can't pay attention to the other competitors.
The fun song has never been a problem: they'll stick with their original choice of "Uptown Girl," even though when they do a quick run through everyone instantly agrees with Rachel when she suggests it might be better if they took Blaine's part and divided it up among some of the other reliable soloists. Nick looks like a combination of impossibly happy and inconsolably guilty when the bulk of the number falls to him. It doesn't matter how many times Blaine tells him it's alright and he's not upset, Nick still looks a little bit like he wants to cry every time someone congratulates him.
It takes a lot longer to find a slow song, so long that Kurt makes a point of grabbing his phone to text Blaine's parents to warn that they'll be late. Blaine absently wonders when Kurt started acting like a better son to his parents than he did, but he's not surprised that Kurt is the one to think about it first. Kurt is always so good at looking after people, and these days Blaine can barely find the energy to tie his own shoes, let alone impress his parents. Even in the meeting he's mostly just sitting on the couch, staring at Kurt's hand in his and the way Kurt's thumb brushes up and down the tops of his fingers. He wonders how long it will take everyone to realize how little he's contributing now that they're starting to get desperate.
The problem seems to be that their best contender for a slow song is Kurt's cover of "Black Bird" which unfortunately also the closest thing they have to a showstopper, too. No one argues that Kurt is capable of singing the hell out of the number, but like Rachel says,
"It's so subdued. You can't beat an over-emotive power ballad with subtlety. People pay attention to whoever sings loudest. If you would just agree to something from - "
"Rachel, drop it!" Kurt snaps. "I've already told you that The Assassins is going to alienate the judges if I sing it out of context and even if it wouldn't, acappella Sondheim arrangements are show choir suicide. Broadway is off the table, Berry. You need to accept it and move on."
Blaine agrees, if only because Kurt has made him listen to The Assassins soundtrack before, and so far as over-emotive torch songs go, there have got to be better options to beat a Celine Dion medley than love songs dedicated to serial-killing cult leaders. He stays out of it, though, letting his eyes drift shut slightly. He's so that tired he hopes Kurt will elbow him if he actually falls asleep, because he knows his detached attitude is worrying the rest of the club, but watching him wake up crying probably won't make them feel any better. Fortunately he's yanked back to attention by Rachel, who has paused for breath long enough to notice his total lack of giving a shit.
"I'm sorry Blaine," she says, full of false sympathy. "Are we disturbing you? I didn't realize my effort to save your entire club from premature destruction was interfering with the lead singer's nap time."
"Knock it off, Rachel," Kurt sing-songs out in an equally irritated tone.
"He's your lead singer, Kurt," Rachel protests. "And I understand that he's going through a hard time, but maybe if he can't handle it he shouldn't be your lead singer, no matter how much you all like him. What chance do you guys have if you're betting all your success on him and he doesn't even care?"
"I care," Blaine says, because in a way he sort of does. At least, he wants to care, for the sake of his friends, and because caring would mean he's not hollowed out and broken. "It's just complicated right now, that's all. And besides, I wouldn't be any help for this sort of thing anyhow. I've never sung a serious song in my life, Rachel. I don't mind listening or anything, but I've never been able to sing the way you and Kurt can."
"You're not good at it because you don't let yourself be good at it," Rachel says stubbornly. "I know you don't believe me, but I know what makes good singing, Blaine. Practise, hard work, and dedication are only small parts of it. If you want the people listening to connect to the music, you have to convince them that you can, too. If you can't actually do that, you have to be able to pretend so well that they don't question it. At the risk of Kurt yelling at me again, we all know you're good at hiding your problems and acting like you're happy, but you're awful at admitting how much you hurt. Maybe it's time to give up the act? We all have televisions, Blaine. Everyone knows your life isn't perfect, so what's the problem with admitting that you're not? Is it because you're embarrassed? Because - "
"Rachel," Kurt hisses, scowling at her. Rachel looks a little sheepish but is by no means through.
"I could apologize for that but I won't," She says. "Your refusal to help us now confirms what I've thought about you ever since you started spending time with Quinn Fabray: You can't help the people who need you because you don't want to help yourself."
Blaine is dimly aware of Kurt letting go of his hand and rising to his feet as he starts to light into Rachel, but he cuts him off, quietly.
"You really think I haven't tried to get past everything?" He asks her.
Rachel looks shocked that he even bothered to answer, but manages,
"I think sometimes you probably try, but the very fact that you just admitted you're trying to get past everything all at once proves that you have no idea how to deal with this effectively."
"And you do?" Blaine counters. "I'm the one who has to deal with all of this, Rachel, not you. You're just a self-absorbed teenager who gets frustrated when things don't go her way and actually thinks she's so smart she's telling me something I haven't heard dozens of times before. I can't just shake this off, okay?"
Rachel's gaze is unflinching.
"I'm very frustrated things aren't going the way I need them to," she says. "But that's not why I'm saying this to you. You scare me sometimes, Blaine. Especially lately. Each time I talk to you it's like that night you got drunk but now you're not even crying. You're just...empty, and I don't understand why you're doing this to yourself because it doesn't have to be this way."
"How do you know that?" Blaine asks. "How do you know what I should be acting like right now?"
"I don't know how you should be acting," Rachel says. "But I know you sing, and the first and most important reason a person sings is that it makes them feel good. It doesn't matter how famous or how talented you are, if you aren't singing because you get something out of it, you shouldn't do it. And sometimes when I sing it's all an act, just like it is for you, but sometimes I feel things so much, singing is the only way to push out those feelings so I can start feeling like me again. Maybe you can't sing the fun songs right now because there are too many bad things in your head for you to be able to pretend anymore. Maybe it's time to stop pretending."
"And you all want to, what?" Blaine asks. "Sit here and watch to see if I crack?"
"The people in this room are your friends," Rachel says, gently and more sincere than Blaine has ever heard her. "Isn't it better to crack in a room full of people who love you and want to help you instead all alone?"
Blaine stares at her for a few minutes. She makes it sound so easy, like she's not asking him to let go of every shred of control he has that's keeping him together, like she's not asking him to risk falling so far into himself he might never come back again. But he's so tired of feeling blank. All he wants is to feel like he belongs in his own body again. No one is saying anything. Finally Kurt sits back down and rests his hand on Blaine's knee. The contact spurs him into action like it's a starting gun and before he can think about it he's looking at Brad and saying,
"I don't have sheet music."
"Brad knows a lot of songs," Kurt says. "Do you have a song you want to try? You can always ask and see if he can play it."
After hesitating another second or two Blaine forces himself to his feet, walking to the piano as he digs in his pocket for his iPod. He has no idea why he's letting himself be talked into this. It's not that he's worried nothing will happen. He's scared that it will, especially when he opens the Most Played playlist on his iPod and sees which song is staring at him in the number one spot. There's a chance this is going to be an absolute trainwreck because this has been such a long time coming. Still, he shows it to Brad anyhow and asks,
"Do you know any Weezer?"
Alternate link
Brad glances at the song and nods before settling in front of the piano and waiting for Blaine to give him the go-ahead. When it doesn't come he just starts counting down from three on his fingers before beginning to play. Blaine doesn't turn around to face the room right away, just stands there watching Brad play out the intro. His hands are sweating and he feels hot and cold at the same time. This was not a good idea.
But when he has to start singing, it's not as bad as he thought it would be. His voice breaks a little when he starts too quietly but it's mostly clear and controlled. He feels himself relax a little. It's a slow starting song, and Blaine almost feels his mind start to drift away to other things against his will, like what usually happens if he sings without trying to perform for anyone. But this time his thoughts have nowhere to wander to. He's so tired that there's nothing else to focus on or think about besides the words. The low-grade anxiety starts to build up inside of him as the words seem to gain weight and settle in the pit of his stomach.
Blaine pushes away from the piano but isn't paying much attention to the rest of the room as it swims in and out of focus in front of him. It's like singing about the darkness actually made the lights go out, because in this moment he feels completely alone, like he's eight-years-old again, wondering where his mom and dad are, and what they're doing and if they're sorry they sent him away. He can feel how much they don't care about him and it fucking hurts.
They gave him away and left him with a monster who took him away, who told him no one loved him and tore him apart inside, even though Blaine never did anything wrong. He was broken so that he'd stop fighting and accept what was happening to him, what kept happening so many times Blaine couldn't even count all of them for Detective Warren. Quinn wasn't lying that one time she said he'd been turned into a toy. Tom made him less than a person and knowing now that it had only worked because he'd lied to Blaine about everything doesn't help like it usually does. It makes it worse, because it still happened either way, but now it hadn't even happened for a real reason.
He'd been alone for over half his life. His parents were stolen away from him and replaced by dreams, uncaring and impossible to hold onto. His world became so small that he latched onto something terrible and convinced himself it wasn't as hopeless as it had been so that he wouldn't get lost. Blaine sold his soul to the man who kept him in hell for the chance to pretend he was somewhere else, somewhere somebody loved him, and now he can't stop shaking and the choir room is a blur in front of him.
He's dimly aware of the song ending and someone pulling him into their arms as they lead him to a place to sit, but he can't piece together who it is, too busy trying to fight his way past all the thoughts and feelings racing around his mind and making the tears streak down his face. The arms keep holding him tightly and he feels a hand running up and down his back. Slowly he fades back into reality, slumping down a little in Kurt's arms as the shaking slowly starts to lessen. The room is completely silent. Blaine can't even hear breathing over the sounds of his own shuddering gasping, but he knows that they're all still there. He can feel their eyes on him, watching.
Finally someone, Trent, Blaine thinks, gasps out a thick-sounding "holy shit," launching the room into motion. Wes is the first to his feet and Blaine just manages to catch a glimpse of his normally stoic friend before he feels him sitting down on the empty seat next to him and wrapping his arms around him along with Kurt. Jeff joins in next, and then Thad. Suddenly Blaine is trapped at the centre of the biggest group hug he's ever seen. Even Brad wanders over to pat Blaine a little absently on the head after he's wiped off his glasses. It looks stupid, Blaine knows it has to look stupid, but at the same time he doesn't care, because he feels safe, because remembering where he used to be makes right now feel that much more real. He couldn't get away from Warblers right now if he tried, but he knows nothing can reach him, either.
Only Rachel remains on the outside, still rooted to her spot on the far side of the couch. She's looking straight at Blaine when he glances in her direction, with an expression of absolute distress written across her features, like now that she's gotten what she was asking for it's too much for her to deal with. She almost looks betrayed, like she never knew Blaine was carrying this inside of him and she's hurt that he kept it from her. Blaine has the horrible fleeting thought that now he knows what expression she'll wear if she ever gets hit by a spouse, but he's not mad at her, not really. It's not her fault that everything about him turns into something ugly and painful, and right now, in the middle of a group of people who care about him and only want to help him, the relief pushes out any room he has for anger.
***
If Blaine were to get his way, he would spend the next week huddled in a ball in his room, crying himself sick, but he's quickly learning that his friends at Dalton aren't the sort of friends who can handle the idea of someone suffering alone. Every minute of his day seems to be taken up by the Warblers, who are so determined to be there for him that it's impossible to get away from them. They're so invested in making sure Blaine has someone to talk to every time his emotions start to overwhelm him that sometimes all Blaine wants is to find one place in all of the damned academy that isn't infested with acappella singers who seem to be baffled as to why anyone would want to cry without a friend watching.
Wes and Thad start an intensive rehearsal schedule almost immediately so that he can get "Hold Me" ready in time for sectionals. Blaine knows that Vocal Adrenaline is one of the best show choirs in America, but he has his doubts that the constant practise is as much about where they place in competition as it is an excuse to monitor how he's feeling at any given time.
"That's really good, Blaine," Thad says one time not long after they've started, grinning hugely. "You didn't lose your voice at the start of the second verse this time. I hope it's because you're working through your issues instead of pretending they aren't there like before. Do you need to talk about your feelings now?"
Blaine declines the offer as politely as he can, but he's not mad about it. Thad is so earnest and excited at the idea of helping Blaine feel better just for Blaine's sake; it's hard to hold it against him, even though he knows he'll never take him up on the offer. He does talk to Wes a few times, one night in particular when he's freaking out about a conversation his parents had with him earlier in the day. Wes has just been teaching Blaine a few breathing techniques to help him from getting pitchy during the bridge when he asks, like he always does, if there's anything Blaine wants to talk about, tonight adding,
"You seem a little more distracted than usual."
Blaine almost tells him nothing is wrong, but Kurt is holed away in his room working on a paper for a class Blaine isn't qualified to take yet, unaware that there's a problem, which is how Blaine wants to keep it. Kurt doesn't complain about it, but Blaine knows how hard he works to keep his grades up so he can stay at Dalton on the scholarships and not have to force his father to work any harder than he already does. It's hard to make good grades when you're constantly helping somebody else fight their way through mountains of personal problems. Blaine knows that talking about his problems won't help solve them in the way he wants them solved, and that Wes might be the most uptight person in all of Dalton, probably unable to give spontaneous reassurance unless he has a manual in front of him, but the weird claustrophobic sensation that accompanied his latest meltdown is creeping back in and with everything still so raw inside him from the last time, he doesn't want to risk another episode like what happened before. He doesn't have the energy to deal with something like that twice.
"My parents told me that the prosecution lawyer thinks I'm going to have to testify in front of the guy who took me," he says.
Wes's eyes get wide and he sits down beside Blaine on the piano seat hard.
"Why?" he asks.
Blaine shrugs.
"The only way they can convict him on even half of what he's charged with is if I tell them about it. Most of the evidence is only from when he took us. Everything else they have to hear about from me."
"But it's still not fair that they make you talk about it in front of everyone," Wes says.
"I knew that would happen anyway," Blaine says. "One of the very first things they told us is they'd need me to testify. Even Stevie might have to, but if he does they'll probably let him do it in another room so he doesn't have to see Brenner again. Because he's so little they think seeing him again would be too hard. I wanted to know if I could do the same thing, but apparently the lawyer was talking to my dad again this weekend and no one thinks a judge will go for it, because I'm so much older. They prefer keeping you in the same room as the jury or something, I don't know, but the main thing is I have to talk to room full of people and reporters who get to hear about all the things he used to do to me and I have to stare at the him the whole time. He had me for almost nine years. It's not going to be a quick interview."
Wes purses his lips together and is quiet for a moment before saying, "My dad's a lawyer. I could ask him about it tonight, but you're probably right, because I heard him mention a while ago that the guy prosecuting your case was really good. But maybe the judge will let you work something out, anyhow? And at least you might get a little bit of privacy when it does go to trial. With the kind of a case this is, I'm sure there's no way they wouldn't put gag orders on the media. They do it with a lot of cases where the victims are kids."
"Maybe," Blaine says. He's quiet for a moment before adding, "Thank you for not offering to sing me anything."
Wes sniffs a little and says, "Well, you never seem too appreciative all the other times we offer, so I thought it might not be your thing."
"It's really not," Blaine agrees.
Wes turns in his spot a little and looks at him like he's assessing a math problem before asking,
"Are hugs your thing? Because I feel like now might be a good time to offer one."
Blaine sighs a little, not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. He settles for a little of both at the same time as he says,
"Go ahead. One arm only though."
"That was the plan," Wes says as he slings his arm across Blaine's shoulders and pulls him a little closer. Blaine doesn't exactly lean in, but he lets Wes keep his arm where it is and doesn't pull away as he stares at the doors on the other side of the room, blinking rapidly and furtively wiping his nose with the sleeve of his blazer. Wes doesn't even comment on Blaine's lack of respect for the Dalton uniform, other than helpfully pointing out,
"You know, the blazers have a breast pocket where you can keep a nicely folded handkerchief. I like using Dalton colours for mine. I find it really brightens the whole jacket up a lot in addition to being practical."
Blaine laughs again and sees Wes smile a little out of the corner of his eye, too, holding onto Blaine's arm a little tighter.
While Wes favours the ask-then-hug approach when dealing with Blaine, not everyone ascribes to the same school of thought when it comes to physical contact. Nick seems to be intent on clapping Blaine on the shoulder each time they see each other, and smiling encouragingly as he asks how Blaine is doing since the last time they spoke. And that's every time they see each other, even when they've been assigned to different work groups in class and have spent less than 20 minutes on other sides of the room. Like clockwork, Nick repeats the same almost-compulsive ritual when he's back in front of Blaine:
Shoulder-clap. "Hi! How are you and how have you been? Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" Smaller shoulder-clap. Smaller shoulder-clap. Silence that would be uncomfortable except for the enormous, unassuming, completely authentic grin spreading across his co-Warbler's features, like the awkwardness of his actions still hasn't occurred to him.
Jeff can't see him without rushing into his space and giving him a hug instead of saying hello like a normal, fully sane person. Trent can't leave without giving him a long hug goodbye.
"Finn would never believe this," Kurt says, laughing one day at the end of another long Warbler practise, as has been mandated by Rachel Berry, who now seems to be their unofficial-official consultant for sectionals. "The guys at McKinley show affection by punching you hard enough to bruise, even when they're being nice."
"I remember," Blaine says over Trent's shoulder as he pats him amiably on the back. "One time after we started hanging out, Puck told me to bring extra clothes to school the next day, because he had decided we were 'bros' and was going to toss me into the dumpster to celebrate. He said he felt bad for doing it to you for so long so he decided the best way to make up for it was to throw all of his other guy friends into garbage containers, too. So you wouldn't feel different."
"Your public school friends are the reason my parents vowed to always send me to private schools," Trent comments, still hugging. "My mother used to tell me that if I was going to learn a pointless activity, it would be which fork is the proper one to eat salad with, not communication through barbarism."
"Good for her!" Kurt smiles, as he gently pries Trent away and grabs Blaine by the hand, waving his goodbyes as they walk off in the other direction.
Barbaric customs of the public school system notwithstanding, Blaine can't exactly pretend that the Warblers are his only friends in the world, either. The constant interaction that began after his fight with Kurt doesn't ease up at all after Rachel sees him break down at the audition. Sam is one of the first to worm his way into Blaine's home to check up on him after hearing the story from Rachel, calling up one Saturday to trick Blaine into offering up an invitation.
"Should you really be spending your energy worrying about me when you've got your brother to deal with?" Blaine asks.
"Stevie's doing pretty good at the moment, actually," Sam says. "I think he's been working through things faster than you. Rachel thinks it's because he hasn't had as much practise lying to himself as you have."
"Rachel would think that," Blaine says. "She was having a great time at practise, telling me all about my problems."
"It's almost becoming her new thing," Sam says, confidentially. "Like, the other day she was talking to Puck about his pool cleaning business and asking why he thinks he needs to sell himself to find validation or something like that. Finn says she's been making him steal Kurt's armchair psychology books from the house while Kurt's at Dalton during the week, too. Oh... Um, don't tell him that. I promised that would die with me."
"So why are you calling?" Blaine asks. "No offense, but we're not really the kinds of friends who call to catch up, Sam."
"Right," Sam says. "About that Rachel thing. Stevie heard her the other day when we were trying to keep her from getting close enough to give him a motivational speech, when she was talking about how upset you got in the choir room. He's sort of been fixating on you all week. Keeps asking if he can come visit, so Rachel volunteered to drive us up there today so he could see you. But I wasn't about to do that without asking first."
"Oh," Blaine says, trying to think of a polite way to turn down the offer. He's still so tired and things have gotten so confused in his head again since things fell apart in the choir room, he's not sure if he can handle seeing people he feels he has to be strong for, not without rebuilding some of his walls. But then Sam says,
"It's okay, you know. If you don't want to see him right now? We'll understand."
"I want to see him," Blaine says, because if he's being honest with himself, most days he still thinks Stevie would be a better sibling than Cynthia. His voice shakes a little when he continues, "I just don't want him to see me like this."
"You don't have to be perfect for him," Sam says, gently. "We always tell him this is hard for you, too. That he's not the only person who's had something awful happen to him and that it's normal to not be able to pretend like everything's okay. He's not expecting you to be fine. He knows better."
"I don't want to scare him," Blaine says, quietly. "I'm all over the place right now."
"I'd rather him see you like this than the way you were acting a couple weeks ago," Sam says. "What's happening to you isn't fun for anyone to see, but the way you were acting before was just scary. I'd see you out shopping with Kurt and Mercedes and I wasn't even brave enough to go up and say hi to you guys. I was positive that any day I'd be have to explain to Stevie what suicide is."
"I was that bad?" Blaine asks.
"I don't know," Sam says. "Maybe not, but you looked like you had already checked out."
In the end they come over to visit late in the afternoon. Stevie makes a beeline for Blaine and immediately starts talking his ear off about a book they've been reading in class at school, while Sam waves shyly at the adults and tries to engage in small talk. Rachel makes herself at home and dumps her things onto the dining room table before taking a seat.
"College applications," she smiles when she notices Blaine staring.
"I thought you already applied to NYADA with Kurt," Blaine says.
Rachel's face clouds over for a minute before she smiles even wider and says,
"Things change, Blaine. I had to share the lead in West Side Story this year with Mercedes, and when I tried to rectify that glaring hole in my extracurriculars by running for student body president, I got beaten by a girl who I admire and respect very much, but still thinks that people with accents have magical powers. I need to be open to the possibility that my calling doesn't lie in the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts."
"Where are you applying instead?" He asks. "Julliard? Tisch?"
Rachel only shrugs noncommittally, and looks a little like her thoughts are racing ahead too fast to keep up with as she unsuccessfully tries to lean forward enough to block her application from view and maintain her perfect posture. Blaine decides it's not worth it and lets her have her space.
By the time Kurt shows up for the evening, Cynthia has determined that so many people in the house at one time constitutes a party and convinces their parents to order in pizza. Blaine watches in amusement after it arrives and his little sister looks on in abject horror as Rachel tries to encourage her to try some of her vegan pizza and extolls the benefits of giving up bacon to a little girl who is still trying to come to terms with the fact that it's not its own food group yet. He can almost see Quinn's coolness increasing the longer Rachel talks.
The evening is a surprisingly pleasant one, all things considered. Stevie is happy enough, and the flurry of commotion around him is distracting enough to keep Blaine's mind off how uneasy he feels. It's not until he's sitting on the couch after dinner, listening to Kurt catch up with Sam and Rachel about what's been happening at McKinley that Blaine starts to feel the dull ache start to make itself known again. He stays quiet about it, not wanting to make yet another evening at his parent's house all about him, until Stevie abandons whatever game Cynthia is trying to force him into playing with her to sit down next to him and lean into his side.
Neither of them say anything for a while, but the longer Stevie sits there the tighter Blaine's chest feels, because suddenly all he can think about is how fucking messed up everything is for them from here on out. His eyes start tearing up and his throat hurts from trying to hold everything back for too long, and this is why he didn't want Stevie to come over. His emotions are suddenly too hard to control when he's not alone. Having someone who he feels directly responsible for letting down sitting beside him amplifies everything until Blaine doesn't know if he'll be able to take it.
"Are you going to cry?" Stevie asks, looking up at him almost appraisingly. "You're breathing funny."
Blaine doesn't look at anyone, but he can feel the room go silent and the focus turns on him and what he's doing.
"Sorry," Blaine says, as he tries to calm the unsteady intake of air. "I'm not going to cry."
His credibility is instantly shattered as soon as he starts speaking though, and the first couple tears roll down his face before he can brush them away.
"Sorry," he mutters again.
"It's okay," Stevie says, leaning back against him. "I don't mind. Sometimes I cry, too. Everyone needs to cry so everyone's allowed to cry sometimes. Dr. Hong said it makes you feel better after."
"I don't feel better yet," Blaine says.
"You haven't been doing it long enough yet," Stevie tells him, unconcerned. "Can we watch a movie?"
It takes a while before they find something that Stevie and Cynthia both want to watch, but eventually something gets turned on, and they start watching. Stevie stays where he is, and soon Kurt sits down on Blaine's other side and puts an arm across his back. Blaine doesn't stop crying but no one seems to feel the need to make him talk about it. Occasionally Kurt moves his hand up to Blaine's hair and runs a hand through it if Blaine starts to look like the tears might start falling any faster, but that's the only acknowledgment anyone gives that anything is out of the ordinary. No one's ignoring him, exactly. They're just letting him do what he needs to do. By the time the credits roll and the Evanses and Rachel leave he's done for the time being, but the reprieve isn't one that lasts. He falls asleep stretched out on the couch with his head in Kurt's lap, tears still running silently down his face. He's not sure, but he thinks when he wakes up hours later to Kurt's voice as he apologises to his father for sleeping past his curfew, he might finally be beginning to feel a little lighter.
To Part Four C