The day is wet and heavy. Sweat pools on the back of Blaine’s neck as he steps into the air conditioned house. The Warblers are expecting him to be presentable and able to perform at the drop of a hat. Blaine smiles, fingering the Claddagh Ring around his finger. Kurt had beamed from ear to ear when he’d given him the matching ring three hours ago. They ended up tumbling into Kurt’s bed, hurriedly making love before Finn woke or Carol arrived home from the evening shift at the hospital.

Blaine had never imagined that he could feel so happy, content, or loved. Kurt’s scent still wafts around him and he sighs. The rings are a promise, one he’s going to keep. Someday he’ll marry Kurt. This he is certain of. Love distracts him so much, he doesn’t even realize his father is home until it’s too late. Michael Anderson steps into his room announced, a dark expression on his chiseled face.

The glare alone is enough to set him on edge, because his father is supposed to be out of town until next Wednesday. Blaine rarely has any supervision, and hasn’t since he’d turned fourteen. His older brother lives in London, his sister is married and has two kids, and his other brother is an officer in the United States Air Force. Blaine isn’t close to his siblings, because their age gap is significant and their father’s disapproval of his youngest son makes things awkward. It used to bother him, but it doesn’t anymore. Kurt is all he needs.

Michael crowds into his space, brutally shoving Blaine against his bedroom wall. Hot breath beats against his neck and he trembles. They fight a lot, but his father has never hit him or shown any physical aggression. Cold metal presses into the small of his back. Blaine freezes when he realizes it’s a gun.

“Blaine.” The stench of whiskey is strong. “I made a deal.”
“Dad.” Blaine squeaks, afraid and confused. “Please. What. What are you doing?”
“You do what they tell you.” Michael shoves the gun into his muscles, eliciting a cry from his son. “You don’t, and I’ll kill him. I’ll kill your precious little boyfriend.”
Terror floods his body. “What?”

“Kurt Hummel.” Michael slurs drunkenly, yanking on his dark curls. “Three-six-nine-four Clover St. That’s his address, right?”
“Dad!” Blaine wildly thinks this is some nightmare, and closes his eyes in disbelief. “Dad! Don’t hurt him!”
“I won’t.” His father promises coldly. “But you do what they tell you.”
“I thought I heard you come home.” A deep, accented voice interrupts their one sided conversation. “Ah, this must be Blaine.”

“Yeah.” Michael releases his arms, but keeps the gun visible. “This is him.”
“Please.” Blaine drops to the floor, staring at the three men standing in the doorway. “What’s going on?”
“Business deal.” A tall, husky man with olive skin and grey hair approaches Blaine. “You’re going to come work for us.” Calloused fingers grip his chin, yanking it upwards. “For a while. As long as we can find a buyer. John. Take his clothes off. Let’s create a profile of him.”

Blaine shrieks in fright as the two men standing behind the tall man rush him. Rough hands manhandle him onto the bed, violently rip off his clothing, and produce a camera. He struggles, adrenaline pumping through his veins, but it’s futile. The men easily over power him and stretch his arms above his head. One man holds his wrists together while another inspects his forearm.
“Find a vein?” The tall man asks casually, as if this is completely normal. “Let’s get going. We don’t have all day. Got to pick up another girl in Columbus.”

“Dad.” Blaine pleads, sobbing uncontrollably as one of the men--John--roughly pinches his thighs. “Daddy, please.”
“Be quiet, Blaine.” Michael rubs at his temples. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“Found a good one.” John traces his fingers over a bulging blue vein. “Right here.”
“Please.” Blaine begs, unable to do anything as a needle is inserted into his skin. “Please, let me go!”
“Shh.” John coos, running his hands over Blaine’s biceps. “You damaged the merchandise, Anderson!”
“They’ll heal!” Michael defends, not looking at his son trembling on the bed. “Come on. He’s bound to get a buyer!”

Their conversation becomes muffled as the drugs start to affect his brain. The world begins to spin. Blaine lays numbly on his bed, no longer caring about the hands trailing over his body or a flashing camera. It feels a bit like flying. The touches start to feel good. They touch him until he’s hard. Blaine moans as another photograph is taken. Someone asks them to make sure he’s well cared for, that he expects his son to be returned in a few years.

The men agree and carry him outside. They lower Blaine onto the floor of a minivan. Child seats glimmer in the dim light. Ropes are tied around his wrists, and another needle flies at his arm. Blaine moans as it is inserted without hesitation. Elation fills him. Lights swirl around his head, stopping when he quits spinning his heels. Kurt leans into his body as they dance.

“They can’t touch us.” He whispers into Blaine’s ear, crown perched high on his head. “They can’t touch us.”
“I love you.” Blaine says to thin air, though he doesn’t realize it until much later. “I won’t let him touch you. I promise.”

2.

The hotel room is nice, spacious, and located in a towering skyscraper. Escape is impossible unless he grows wings. Blaine sits on a large king size bed wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and tries to find any familiar landmarks. Ocean waves crash into fine sand far below. Tourists stroll down the boardwalk and bake in the oppressive heat. Fear twists his stomach into knots. The kids in that house had said he was lucky someone had bought his father’s debts. It meant he’d be with one person for the duration of his father’s contracts. The girls promised him it would be better than working for their handlers. He believes them, but it doesn’t make this any easier.

Four men lounge around the living room, laughing as they watch a movie and wait for their client to show up. Blaine bites his lip. The smell of pizza makes his stomach rumble. It’s been a long time since he’s had a full meal. The girls steal most of his food, leave him meager portions, and at least six of them have held him down and raped him. He doesn’t blame them. Getting pregnant was the only way they could escape the contract, the drugs, and their clients.

Time has no meaning anymore. Not really. Blaine doesn’t know how long ago he had been taken from Ohio. The sun shines brightly in a sharp blue sky. It’s impossible to tell what season it is. He doesn’t recognize anything in this city. The doorknob clicks open. A man with blond hair, green eyes, and a charming smile steps inside. Blaine shivers as he moves towards the bed.

“You must be Blaine.” The man looks familiar, but Blaine can’t place him. “Tell me something. I want your honesty. I know those men outside said you were a virgin, but I don’t entirely trust them. Are you a virgin, Blaine?”
The question doesn’t surprise him. Several girls at the house had told him that buyers usually preferred virgins. Blaine smiles, grateful that no one can take that from him. The night he spent under the stars with Kurt drifts across his mind.

“No.” He won’t lie, because a small part of him hopes that this man will let him go home. “I’m not a virgin.”
“I appreciate your honesty.” The man smiles, hungrily eyeing his chest. “How many people have you been with?”
For a moment, he considers telling him about the girls, and how they had taken turns. Guilt and fear stop him. If he does it, the girls might get hurt or killed. “Just one.”

“I see.” The man runs his fingers over Blaine’s nipples, then down his chest, and finally ends his journey inside Blaine’s boxers. “I can handle that. It’s always a good idea to use condoms. I had my last---employee--for six years. Do you know how long your contract is?”

“No.” Blaine tries not to react as the man begins to fondle him. “I don’t.”
“Well.” The blond pushes him onto his stomach. “I have a feeling we’ll get on well. You’re beautiful.”

Blaine pretends it’s Kurt touching him instead of this man. Blue eyes haunt his mind as the stranger inserts a finger into his tense body. It hurts. Tears run down his face. The only thing that stops him from crying out or fighting the unwanted touches is Kurt. Blaine has to do this, or something bad will happen to the boy he loves. Once the stranger comes inside of him, he lays numbly on the bed and finally places a name to the face.

“You’re Evan White.” He says quietly, flinching under the man’s soft touches. “The actor.”
“Indeed.” Evan replies happily. “I’m very pleased to finally meet you. I’ve been waiting for you for weeks. You belong to me now, Blaine. Now repeat it.”
“I belong to you.” He repeats, though it’s a lie. “Where are we?”

A fist flies at his face. The blow is hard and sends him careening off the bed. Blaine rubs his jaw painfully, whimpering as Evan crouches next to him.

“You’re mine.” Evan hisses, yanking on his hair. “And you won’t speak unless I ask you to. Understood? Nod.”
He nods robotically, hating his cowardice. A needle dances in front of his face. It’s a welcome sight. The drugs make him feel good. Kurt will come for a visit and sing. The music is what gets him through each day. Seeing the man he loves gives him hope and reminds him that there are places far away from the constant pain. Blaine licks his lips in anticipation, but doesn’t dare ask Evan to give it to him. The blonde pats the track marks on his arms. When the needle slides carefully under his skin, Blaine smiles gratefully. Kurt will be here soon.

3.

Hundreds of black lines are carved into the dark walls. They are simple tally marks, indicating how long Blaine has been locked in the hidden room. Sunlight is a privilege. When he satisfies Evan enough, he gets to go outside and walk down the boardwalk. The blonde always comes with him. Blaine literally can’t run away. A police issued tracking device is tightly attached to his ankle.

Officer Frost is a frequent visitor to their suite. The attractive brunette rapes him regularly while Evan watches and gives instruction. Blaine is forced into sex that is painful, rough, and degrading. His employer is strict and possessive. Evan has a few kinks. Voyeurism happens to be one. It’s unpleasant. Blaine hates it when Frost comes over.

It hurt to move around too much, so Blaine lets Evan give him another shot and turns on the radio after the two men leave him alone. The blankets make his skin itch. He can’t shower until tomorrow, because Evan likes to shower with him. Blaine pulls the blankets around his shoulders, listening to a familiar radio show from home. Debbie used to be one of his well kept secrets. She is wonderful and he pretends for a while each night that she is his mother, offering him comfort when no one else will.

Hearing the voice doesn’t surprise him. Blaine knows what Kurt sounds like. He speaks to him every day, as many times as he can. The needles are a welcome, desired sight. Kurt is speaking to Debbie. It’s never happened before. Blaine sits up and turns up the volume. The radio is his only entertainment. It’s his friend. He knows every satellite station by heart. The sounds keep him going, the DJ’s become his allies, the commercials are something to look forward to, and so is the news. It’s easier to keep track of the endless days that blend mindlessly together.

“Kurt guests hosts with me one day each year.” Debbie leads him into the next segment. “Kurt, why don’t you tell our listeners why you’re calling?”
“I have a friend.” Kurt’s voice is sad, making Blaine’s heart ache. “His name is Blaine. He disappeared four years, six months, two weeks, and four days ago.”
“Kurt hosts on Blaine’s birthday every year.” Debbie gently informs him, and tears start to flow from his eyes. “Blaine, if you’re out there, Kurt has a message for you.”

“Happy Birthday.” Kurt breathes into the microphone. “Blaine. I haven’t said goodbye to you. I never will.”
“Thank you, Kurt.” Debbie starts playing music. “This song is for Blaine. We play it every year for him.”
The opening notes of Candles fill the room. Blaine sobs, crying into his pillow. Kurt still loves him. It’s all that matters and the only thing that he can really focus on while he’s high. Evan can never really own him, because he belongs solely to Kurt. Blaine spends his twenty-first birthday singing Candles over and over and over again.

4.

Something compels Evan to move Blaine out to California. The actor rants for a long while about pressure. Blaine clutches a stuffed penguin to his chest. Evan had wanted to get him a gift one day for being such a good employee. So Blaine politely asked for the stuffed animal. Evan brought him several dozen different kinds, amused that his employee wanted something so simple when he could have anything tangible. The fur is soft and feels amazing under his fingers.

The toy reminds him of Kurt. Blaine feels stealthy and sly, being able to get away with this. Wes is soft and he whispers secrets into it’s floppy ears. Sometimes Wes talks back to him, when he is tripping or in pain. Evan has been violent and mean for a while. Blaine stares at the floor, hoping his boss won’t hit him.

It’s been too long since he’s had a shot. His fingers tremble and sweat beads along his forehead. All consuming need engulfs his body. Evan leaves him twitching painfully, though he doesn’t understand why.
“I’ve been good.” He begs weakly, wanting his fix. “Please?”

Evan hits him in his left eye, cutting the skin. Blaine blubbers pathetically in the tiny bathroom. The stuffed animal is taken away from him. Evan says something about boxes. Blaine clutches a stuffed bear instead. Kurt comes to see him two days later, when he’s feverish and shaking like a leaf.

5.

The move is rough. Blaine is forced onto the edges of withdrawal, starved, and dragged across the country on a private plane. Evan holds his hands tightly. Once the plane takes off the needle finally pierces his skin. Blaine babbles incoherently, happy to be given what he so desperately needs. Evan takes him to a beautiful and sprawling mansion near the sea.

A locked room waits patiently for Blaine. Dread fills his soul as he is shoved inside. The penguin is sitting on a pillow. Blaine runs over to the toy, gathers it in his arms, and rocks it gently. An expensive, state of the art entertainment center is set up in the front of the room.

He isn’t allowed outside for a long time. The house is filled with new sounds. Music plays constantly in the background. He doesn’t have satellite radio anymore. Evan discovered his obsession with Debbie and became jealous. The actor had explained that’s what had set him off so badly in Miami.

“You can’t love anyone else.” Evan orders as he swings a belt against Blaine’s back. “You can’t.”

Blaine never answers, because it’s pointless. Kurt is the only man he’ll ever love. They love each other more than anything. Blaine sees him once at a football game. It’s on television. Kurt is clapping happily as one of the quarterbacks scores a touchdown. Blaine cries for hours that day, wishing he could hold him again. Evan extends his contract. Kurt is often shown at the games supporting one of the players. The news people seemed a little obsessed with him. Blaine watches the sports channels all of the time, hoping to get a glimpse. The newscasters always chase after him. They become his closest friends.

1.

The hospital bed is narrow and the room is too large. Blaine holds onto Kurt, arms wrapped around his torso. Evan will be mad at him if he finds out about this. A part of him is scared and nags at him to leave, or Kurt might get hurt. Another, stronger part screams to rest. He’s tired and hasn’t had a shot for hours. The nurses stare sadly at the track marks on his arms, the doctors have a list of STDs he has on his chart.

Painkillers are coursing through his body. Blaine hears the Mexican Lady Gaga (he can’t remember her name) swearing profusely at the cops outside. Kurt is laying there beside him, though he isn’t asleep. Blaine can’t close his eyes. Kurt might vanish. He’s tired.

“Kurt?” Blaine croaks, shivering into his touch. “Kurt.”
“Blaine.” Kurt strokes his cheeks. “You’re running a fever. It’s alright.”
He feels the ring on Kurt’s left hand. “You’re wearing your ring.”

“Of course I am.” Kurt murmurs, sliding a Claddagh ring onto his left hand. “This one is yours.”
“How?” Blaine mumbles, crying with happiness. “How did you find it? One of the girls stole it from me.”

He remembers how upset he’d been, when that skinny white girl had taken it from him.
“Melinda knew the girl that took it.” Kurt whispers. “She talked her into coming to tell me. Now that she’s clean, she wanted to return it.”

The ring still fits perfectly on his fingers. Kurt encloses his hands around Blaine’s and hums softly into his ear until he’s sleeping soundly.