CHAPTER 12: An intervention

For the next few days, once he actually sobered – for real, this time – and recovered from a nasty hangover, Blaine wondered if Kurt would ever come back. He'd been in bad shape when Kurt had turned up, bad enough to let his bitterness and the latent resentment of their situation spill over, but he hadn't been so gone that he wouldn't remember their conversation. Oh no, he remembered it all too well, along with every little detail of Kurt's shocked, hurt expression.

It would almost be a relief if he didn't come back, part of Blaine's mind admitted. The other part – the weak, pathetic part – just whimpered at the thought of not seeing Kurt again.

But Kurt did come back. Made sure to call beforehand, too. He acted carefully and barely spoke, leaving after midnight instead of staying the night, but the sex was still hot as ever, and Kurt's skin, the line of his throat with his head thrown back, his hips rocking so perfectly right as he rode Blaine into the mattress made any lingering thoughts about ending their arrangement irrelevant.

Things were weird for a couple of weeks after that, a cool, almost formal air between them that felt completely forced. They were very proper towards each other – as proper as people can be while having regular sex, even with no strings attached – but little by little, the ice began to melt and a month after the blow-up they were back to talking and sleepovers, and even those little displays of affection that came so naturally (and were nothing to worry about. Really.)

And Blaine was back to paying for every meeting in self-hatred and/or drinking until he was numb because when Kurt was so close, it was hard not to feel. And he couldn't stand feeling so much.

But he could deal with it.

They never spoke about going out again, but when Kurt finally shared the news of his internship, Blaine felt so bad for ruining that night for him that he made dinner the next time Kurt was supposed to come over. He even lit candles. It felt like a date.

He didn't sober up for three days after that.

Mel noticed things.

She was bound to notice sooner or later, of course, now that she made it her mission to keep an eye on Blaine on a more regular basis again and called or dropped by at least once a week. So far he'd been lucky and she hadn't seen him at his worst, but he knew she recognized the signs. She'd seen them too many times before.

But she didn't say a word about it, respectful of Blaine's request to let it be, for over three months since she first learned about Kurt. She kept giving him worried looks, asking how he was, inquiring about his writing and his sleep and his eating habits (though not the drinking ones), but never once did she say Kurt's name. Which, given how protective she was, should have been a warning by itself. But Blaine was just happy that she didn't give him hell about it.

She pounced when things between him and Kurt were finally okay again, once the world had returned to its twisted, but predictable order.

"It's funny how the roles are reversed, don't you think?" Mel said casually one day, stirring her coffee with a wry smile. "How you are the sex slave now."

Blaine snorted over the platter of cake he was cutting, but her face remained serious. He stared at her. "You're kidding."

"I'm not. Look at it. You're at his beck and call, granting him sexual favors, and you're not even paid."

Blaine frowned and put away the knife to look at her properly. "You can't be seriously comparing Kurt's situation back then to mine now."

She shook her head. "Actually, I think that yours is worse, in a way. Kurt only had that one night with you, several days in captivity. You've been trapped in this for months."

Blaine spluttered, indignant. "This is ridiculous. I'm not trapped, I can end it anytime I want to. Have you considered that maybe I just don't want to?"

"Yes, because you are your own captor here. You just keep punishing yourself, don't you?" Mel said lightly, and something twisted in Blaine's chest, too close. She pressed on, every bit the unrelenting prosecutor she was. "When will you decide it's enough? When you have nothing left to sacrifice? When he forgives you, B?"

Blaine shuddered and closed his eyes, fighting for composure.

He'd given up on that hope a long time ago, didn't even think about it anymore, but the word brought back a flash of the raw need. He felt a warm hand on his forearm and let Mel pull him close. It was so easy to fall into her embrace, allow himself to be held, her body a soft, jasmine-scented blanket of safety around him. The tears were too close again and he squeezed his eyes tight, Melanie's voice gentle in his ear.

"It's not his forgiveness you need, cupcake. It's yours. This is not a fairytale. He won't magically erase years of misery with a kiss, or lift a curse, waking you up to a new happy life. You can only do that yourself. This game you two play, it's just making it harder for you, B. And you don't have much left to lose."

The tears won at last, seeping swiftly into the shoulder of her hot pink jacket, and Blaine's bitter laugh sounded more like a sob.

"I know, Mel. But I can't push him away."

***

Kurt's phone buzzed with an incoming text just as he'd finished gathering his things to go home after a particularly productive day at work. Yes, work – because he'd just been promoted to junior designer a week ago, a regular position with a decent salary and a world of possibilities for his future. He still couldn't believe that this was his life.

He looked at his phone in the elevator and a grin spread over his face.

Blaine: Come over after work?

Kurt considered his options. He hadn't expected the invitation – he'd been at Blaine's barely two days ago, and usually it was him initiating their meetings anyway – so he had no spare clothes with him. He could either go right away and return home after they were done (an unwelcome option; he really loved the falling asleep together part of their meetings), or go home first to grab a change of clothes (which made little sense, considering his apartment was further away from his new workplace than Blaine's was, and in a completely different direction). Or–

Fuck it. It was Friday. He would survive going home in the morning in today's clothes; he could even go commando if needed. He tapped out a quick response (I'll be there in a half hour) and walked to the subway, humming happily.

Kurt had just rounded a corner into Blaine's street when he heard his name being called. Startled, he turned towards the unfamiliar voice and sure enough, there was a rather large, colorfully-dressed woman of about thirty waving to him from a table outside a cafe. Kurt's well-earned distrust towards strangers flared up immediately, but there were plenty of people around, so he cautiously walked over.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

He was sure he didn't, actually. She was a memorable one, that was certain. Up close, he could see that her clothes were not only flattering and well-chosen for her body type, but also designer label. Her hair fell in dark brown waves onto her shoulders, held back with an olive green head scarf, and she had one of those expressive faces that are hard to forget. Right now, the expression on it wasn't particularly friendly, though, as she looked him up and down appraisingly.

"No, but I know you. Well, of you." She offered her hand, surprisingly strong when Kurt took it. "Melanie Olson, I'm Blaine's friend. And just so we're clear, I don't like you."

Kurt withdrew his hand, bristling already. "Oh. Good to know. Well, Melanie, it was nice to meet you, but I have a meeting, so–"

"No, you don't. Blaine didn't text you – I did." She shrugged and reached for her coffee, leaving him staring.

"What? Why– How–"

"I borrowed his phone. We need to talk, and I had a feeling you wouldn't take it well if a stranger invited you for coffee and a chat. Considering your past and all."

The casual remark made Kurt's heart jump up in his throat. He didn't advertise his past; not many people knew of it. Then again, if she was Blaine's friend–

If she was Blaine's friend. He had no way of knowing, really. She could be anyone, and as little sense as it made at this point, Kurt had always feared that the demons from his past might come back to haunt him – there were helpers, accomplices who'd never been revealed, still running free somewhere. Even the guy who had "recruited" him – Kurt had been looking out for him throughout the trial, and he'd never surfaced. If the kidnappers wanted to reach their former "employees", eliminate the witnesses for some reason–

Melanie must have noticed the rapid change in his breathing, his hands clenched tight on the back of a chair, because her face softened.

"I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me. Let me clarify: I know of you and your past because I've been Blaine's friend for over ten years now. And you have no reason to be afraid of me, though I understand the reaction. I'm an Assistant DA, I can show you my credentials if you want, but I'm just here for Blaine." She reached into her spacious bag and pulled out a wallet, from which she produced a small picture. "Here, see for yourself."

It was a cut-out from a larger photograph, slightly crinkled and worn out around the edges, and the faces of the two people laughing over a shared microphone were much younger and perfectly carefree, but it was definitely her and Blaine.

"Freshman year, karaoke night. We started talking, then we sang together. It was love at first note." She rolled her eyes when Kurt's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Not that kind of love, he's gay as the Easter bunny in case you haven't noticed, and not my type. I like them big and blond, Viking-style. But he's my best friend, Kurt, and that means I get to be a bitch to anyone who's hurting him."

Kurt startled out of his momentary freeze. "You think I'm hurting him?"

"I know you are. That's why I'm here. I want you to leave him alone."

"Excuse me?" God, that was some utter nonsense. "I have no idea where you get your info, but maybe you should talk to Blaine instead of assuming. Try after one of our... dates. I'm sure he'll tell you just how unhappy I make him."

He felt confident now, almost cocky. This was some stupid misunderstanding, an overprotective mother hen with a hero complex, trying to save Blaine from... what? A relationship she considered wrong for some reason? Was she one of those who didn't believe in sex outside a steady relationship? Or was she simply jealous? How much had Blaine told her, anyway?

Deep down, discomfort stirred, a reminder why their rel- um, arrangement was kind of a complete secret, why Kurt had never even told his father. He pushed it away, his gaze never wavering.

But she didn't flinch either.

"Mhm. Tell me, Kurt. When did you last see him?"

He smirked. "Yesterday morning. And I assure you I left him safe and sound, and very... satisfied."

If he wanted to shock her – okay, maybe he did, a little – it didn't work. She swallowed the rest of her coffee in one impressive gulp and stood up, shouldering her bag.

"Fine. Come on, let's go visit him, check his satisfaction levels." She arched her eyebrow when Kurt hesitated. "What? Are you afraid there might be something to my crazy assumptions, after all?"

"Of course not." Kurt huffed and followed her, his head held high. "I just don't want to make Blaine uncomfortable when he has to tell his alleged best friend to mind her own business."

She grinned at him. "Don't worry. I promise to be properly contrite if he does. But it's not going to happen."

She sounded too certain, and the uneasy feeling fluttered in Kurt's chest again.

"Yeah, we'll see."

They walked the short distance to Blaine's building in silence, and Kurt's hand slid into the side pocket of his bag on instinct – just another thing learned from his own mistakes. He was about to go into a poorly-lit entrance hall with a stranger. He would not do that unarmed.

"Feel free to take it out." Melanie was looking at him, completely calm. Kurt felt his cheeks heat up.

"What do you–"

"The pepper spray or taser or whatever you carry. You can take it out if it makes you feel safer, I don't mind. Just maybe wait until we're out of the crowd?"

Indeed, there were quite a lot of people around them on the sidewalk, the afternoon rush hour in full bloom. Kurt hesitated when they reached the door which Melanie opened with a code, but then he shrugged and took the device out. Better safe than sorry.

"You know tasers are illegal for civilian use in New York, don't you?" She sounded amused, and Kurt cursed inwardly. Shit, he'd forgotten who she was. Or claimed to be.

"I–"

She didn't give him time to panic, looking over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs in front of him. Her smile looked genuine for the first time since he met her. "It's okay. I may not like you, but it doesn't mean I don't understand why you feel the need to carry something more effective than spray."

Kurt let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Yeah. I'm not taking any chances." This time hung unspoken in the air. (Back then, the only weapon Kurt had had were his keys. It had only gotten him a punch to the face when he scratched his kidnapper's cheek open.)

Melanie nodded and continued up the stairs. When she reached Blaine's door, she simply took out a set of keys and opened it. Kurt stared at her.

"Wait. I thought Blaine was supposed to be home."

She shrugged. Her smile was gone now. "He is. He gave me spare keys years ago."

Kurt didn't move, his hand tight and sweaty on the taser. Melanie sighed. "Come in. I swear I haven't murdered B for bait to get you here alone. Do you want to call someone and tell them where you are? Or you can call the police and make them check my credentials."

Maybe he should. Or, better yet, leave right now, trusting his instincts.

Instead, he took the final two steps up and stopped beside the open door. It was quiet inside, not even the sound of typing coming from Blaine's apartment. Yes, something was definitely wrong.

Melanie was waiting patiently.

"Why are we really here?" Kurt asked eventually.

"Because I want to show you something." She looked very calm, and very determined.

"Does Blaine know?"

"He won't mind."

This was possibly the stupidest thing he'd ever done, going against every rational thought in his head – but somehow, he had to do this. Maybe he'd pay for it. But something was very wrong and there was no way he would walk away without checking to see if Blaine was alright.

Taser still at the ready, he followed Melanie into the apartment.