The only reason Blaine continued going to classes was because Kurt walked him to every single one. If it wasn’t for that, Blaine would have spent his whole entire time in the room with the piano. Desperate as a goldfish without water, Blaine needed to get rid of Kurt’s presence so he could at least see it again. How was a mystery to him. Finally a chance came, Kurt was unusually late to pick him up, and Blaine took siege of it. He almost ran out of class, a tree to the sunlight, to find the room. It was, thankfully, empty besides the chairs decorating the room and the wonderful instrument. Staring at it, he slowly walk towards it, afraid it might disappear, run off, or prove to be a teasing illusion of his own mind. The glorious instrument now stood before him. Reducing Blaine to an insignificant spec of dust in its presence. Was it real? He took a deep shaky breath in, quivering from the anxiety that was swimming in every nerve fiber. As if possessed by a spell the piano created, Blaine lifted a finger, and slowly brought it down onto a key.

He jumped. The sweet ring of the piano filled the room and slowly faded away. Blaine sat down next to the instrument, conflicted. He wanted to play it. He wanted to be lost in his music, feel the rhythms, cadences, and the melody. To fill this colorless room with the sound of music he created. Listen as the high notes danced above him and the low notes swept past and encircled him.

The haunting truth hit him with painful sudden jab. He wasn’t worthy. If he played the piano, it would turn to filth. He’d tarnish it. He could never do this magnificent instrument justice. Without being able to control himself, Blaine stood up. Hands hovering inches above the piano, he played a memorized piece without ever touching a key. This, this was enough.

Kurt began walking to Blaine’s class, when Mercedes snuck up behind him.

“I saw you at football practice today.”

“You sound like Rachel, you realize that right?” Kurt asked with a raised eyebrow wishing her away. They used to be best friends, now she just nagged him. An annoying fly he couldn’t get rid of. Buzzing around his head reminding him of what he used to be. If she would only just stop.

“You didn’t look very happy.”

“I was tired Mercedes, practice takes a lot out of you.” Which was true, he wasn’t lying. Often his muscles screamed in protest and agony by the end. His body was still getting used to exercising muscles he had never used before.

“We have sectionals on Sunday. You should come.”

“Why, so I can watch you lose?” He immediately regretted the statement as soon as it came out. Mercedes was provoking his anger. Although who exactly he was angry at, Kurt couldn’t tell.

“No. To support your friends.”

Kurt scoffed, “No one ever talks to me anymore, besides you.”

“Whose fault is that? You’re the one who kept pushing everyone away,” she said glaring at him. “We all miss you.” She touched his shoulder, a sign of affection. Kurt shrugged it off, he didn’t want it.

“And now Finn! Have you been hanging out with them so much that you started channeling each of them?”

“I’ll talk to you later. Sectionals is at Madeira High School. Come.”

“Later, Mercedes.” He wasn’t going to go. They didn’t want him there; they hated him. Besides, he didn’t want to be there. Rachel was sure to sing lead, blow everyone out of the water. Brittany and Mike would be dancing away awing the crowd with their ridiculous moves. The Glee Club would end with a number together. They would be smiling enjoying themselves. Kurt was happy for them, but he didn’t want to be a part of it. He didn’t was to see it. Football, weight lifting, and his family were his life now. Not that silly Glee Club.

He was just about to reach Blaine’s class when he saw curly black hair rush out of the room. Mercedes just had to slow him down, and now Blaine was taking off again. Exasperated and curious as to where he was headed, Kurt followed. Blaine stalked to the piano in the choir room, eyes held in wonderment. A note was played. Was this where Blaine headed off to weeks before stumbling upon this room after wandering around school and getting lost? Was this why he found Blaine curled under some stairs? A piano? Kurt left when Blaine sat on the ground, not wanting to be late for his next class.

Later that night Kurt told his father the story. His dad agreed to buy him a keyboard to see if a piano could help him progress. There were no reports about a piano in Blaine’s paperwork, but Burt was willing to give it a try. They just wanted to see Blaine happy. He and Kurt then discussed their plans for tomorrow. “As you know, kid, tomorrow will officially mark the first month that Blaine has been here. Meaning, the schedule will be followed.”

Kurt was excited to actually help out around the house again. It was weird and very unsettling to watch someone else do all your chores for you. Especially when that person was only doing them out of fear of punishment. He missed helping out. Blaine was doing everything. It didn’t feel right. It was wrong and Kurt’s heart wrenched every time he saw Blaine do a chore tense and afraid. It wasn’t fair what other people did to him. How he was treated in the past like a slave, less than human, a tool to manipulate and destroy. Degrading him until he was only a ghost.

“We need to be on the ball with everything we do. We can’t let him have a chance to do a chore that isn’t his to do. Although, if he gets to us before we do, we have to let it go. Do you understand?”

Kurt nodded wondering how Blaine was going to react to the sudden change.

After everyone was up and ate breakfast courtesy to Blaine, Kurt’s dad once again told the schedule to his foster brother. This time, Blaine seemed to be aware of what was being asked, his eyes less glazed, more focused. “If you ever forget what day you need to do something, look at the schedule,” his dad said gesturing to the chart in the middle of the hallway. “I expect this to be followed. We work as a team here. We help each other out. Everyone does a fair share of the work. Since you cooked breakfast today, Kurt will do it next week.”
Blaine wondered if this was a test. What if they wanted him to do chores and made up this schedule only to ultimately beat him for not doing work? What if they wanted him to fail so they could finally enjoy torturing him? This was a test set up to ensure his failure. They intended to mislead him. Tricking him to hurt him. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He would avoid punishment at all costs. Blaine was going to do what they really wanted him to do. Be a servant. He understood how this foster care system operated.

Dinner was an interesting affair. Kurt kept an eagle eye watch to see when his dad and Blaine were done eating. He noticed as the month progressed, Blaine was eating more and more of his meals. Already half of his plate was gone. His figure looked a little fuller, not so scraggly. Bones not so prominent. However, his eyes still spoke the depths of his past.

Kurt’s dad was finished with his plate. Blaine’s hand reached out to take it, but Kurt quickly snatched it away before Blaine could even lay a figure on it. Blaine was filled with anxiety, heart fluttering wildly; a bird suddenly trapped in a small room. Chest constricted, the walls closed in. Ensnared in their ambush, his breathing became strained. He could already feel the whip sinking into his skin causing welts as he tried not to flinch. When you flinch, they beat you harder. He hurried to the sink, hoping for a salvation to end this torture.

The telephone rang, and Kurt, nearest to the phone answered it. The tension in Blaine released, started washing the plate.

Defeated and angry at the phone, Kurt answered, “Hello?”
“Is Mr. Hummel available?”

“What do you want, Finn?”

“Oh, uhm. Hi, Kurt. My truck kinda just broke down and your dad is supposed to be like the best mechanic in town, right? I don’t know what to do and uhm I thought maybe your dad could… help me? Can I talk to him?”

There were far too many uhms for Finn to be telling the truth. With suspicion he gave his dad the phone, “It’s Finn. Says his car broke down.”

“Hello, Finn.”

With that Kurt’s dad left the kitchen and went to the back yard.

The next day, Burt got up extra early to make breakfast for everyone. Blaine walked downstairs; saw that food was already made. Like a deer pegged for a meal by a wolf, he bolted to his room closing the door. Life was constant fear of becoming prey to the people the state paid to take care of him. Anxiety made him fumble with the lock. He pressed himself against the back wall shaking. Absolutely terrified. Someone knocked on the door. Blaine pressed himself further into the wall trying against hope to become one with it. To disappear and fade from the world. Closing his eyes, he drifted away from reality to the sound of his music. Any moment they would kick down the door belt in hand. He thought of his music.

Kurt knocked on the door again, no response.

“Blaine! Blaine!” he called, “It’s okay. Nothing is going to happen to you. Come down and eat breakfast with us.” Kurt left after a few minutes of waiting. Now was time for patience.

“Didn’t want to come out?” his dad asked.

“No.” Blaine had been there for a month. The teen spent the majority of his time locked in his room. The rest of the time he was only with them because he had to be and then he locked himself away. Eyes never meeting theirs. Ears never quite hearing what they had to say.

“All we can do right now is wait. He’ll come around eventually.” Kurt nodded. “So, I was talking to Finn last night.”

“Were you able to help him with his truck?”

“His truck was fine.” Of course it was, Finn was a horrible liar. “He told me about Glee’s first competition today. I think you should go.”

Kurt groaned. Would no one leave him alone? “Why?” Kurt asked spitting the word out with much distaste.
“It’ll be good for you.”

“I’m not going. I don’t want to go. You can’t make me go.”

“I’m your father. You’re going.”

“What about Blaine? You can’t leave him here alone”

“Blaine and I aren’t going. The Glee Club is picking you up.”

As if on cue, the door bell rang. Infuriated, Kurt sighed, when his father put his mind to something, no one could persuade him otherwise. All the Glee Club members greeted him with smiles. Kurt stood there, cold and unwavering, glaring at his former friends. He gave a special long glower to Mercedes. For it was her that organized his capture, he was sure of it. He would go, being almost forced into it, but he wasn’t going to like it.

Hours later, Blaine slowly peaked outside his door to make sure no one was around. He cautiously made his way downstairs hoping to eat something when he saw Burt on the couch. Instantly he froze. But a grumbling stomach urged him on. Deliberately, he took silent steps to the fridge to open it.

“There is left over casserole on the top shelf if you want some.”

Upon reflex, Blaine dropped the container he was holding on the ground. Food and glass splattered everywhere. Blood drained from his face. He ran to his room, a deer, a rabbit, a mouse. Looking for escape. Nowhere was safe. Trapped inside his own horror. Music. The piano.

He went hungry that day, too terrified to face them again. Now, punishment couldn’t be avoided. Already he had failed their test by neglecting to cook. Furthermore, he added more misdemeanors to the surely ever-growing list by breaking something that belonged to them. Maybe they liked to pile punishments onto one another to make it last longer, make him break easier. It didn’t matter either way how they carried out discipline. He deserved whatever punishment they decided and gladly receive it, too. The punishment would be justified. Punishment was always justified.

Kurt walked in the door, slamming it shut, just getting home from sectionals. He stomped to the kitchen to get something to eat.

“How was sectionals?” his dad called to him as Kurt moodily pushed buttons on the microwave to heat up leftovers.

“Fine,” he said shortly, angrily. Fine was an understatement, they killed it tonight. They were wonderful on stage. Their energy filled the audience, captivating them, and the judges as well. Of course they won first place. Why did they have to drag him along? They couldn’t just leave him to his football could they? It was true, as much as Kurt tried to deny everything about how he felt. He did miss Glee. The excitement of stepping on stage as you shared your heart with the audience. To let the song take you over completely as everything else ceased to exist. The moment when you sang with everyone else and it didn’t matter if you were lead, backup, or swaying in the background. You were a part of it, the group, and the marvel of creating something together. Belonging. Yes, Kurt missed it. But he couldn’t go back, he had other obligations now. He was a polar opposite person and he liked his place at school, the closeness that he and his dad now had because they shared similar interests, the lack of slushies. Acceptance.

Over following week Blaine stayed away from the Hummels as much as possible. But even still, there were moments when both Burt and Kurt had the perfect opportunity to give him his punishment.

But no punishment came. Realization hit him suddenly like unexpectedly falling into icy water, they had never punished him. In his whole month of staying there, they had never laid a hand on him. Why not? He was worthless, he was inconsequential, he was disposable. People used him, for money, for labor, for their sick games. This is what he expected from the world, and it was only a matter of time he was proven right again. Blaine reluctantly and very hesitantly began following the schedule, still anticipating punishments. This was the worst for Blaine as he was always on edge, even more now. Always wondering when they were going to strike against him. Convinced any moment, due to a wrong move, they were going to hurt him. A rock teetering over the edge of a long cliff waiting for the slightest wind to push him over. His muscles constantly tense. The music was always waiting for Blaine, ready to take him away when he needed a place to retreat.

He thought further and another realization; not only hadn’t beaten him yet, but they weren’t constantly verbally attacking him either. In fact, they complimented him when he cooked, when he cleaned, when he did something right. But Blaine never did anything right. Right and Blaine were oil and water; no matter how hard he tried they never mixed. Why were they telling him such lies? Why did they never insult him? Where were his beatings? These were the thoughts twisting around and around. Creating knots, unable to untie them, unable to make sense of the situation. Confused beyond comprehension he played his piano. Something he did understand.

A knock on his door brought him back to reality, and he slowly opened it.

“We have something for you, Blaine,” said Burt.

Kurt revealed a key board just outside the door and handed it to Blaine. Blaine stared at it, shocked. He slowly took it. Surprised astonishment, a piano. A piano he could play. They had given him a piano? Why? They must have known he could only create flawed music. A new type of punishment, a new horror. They would mock him when he played. Make a spectacle of it, tease him. They would take away his music. Crumble his only salvation, the only thing that ever made him sane. Now, he understood. He was angry. Angry at Kurt and angry at Burt. Angry at the cruel world who dealt him a rotten hand.

How dare they give this to him. He threw it to the opposite wall where it shattered. Why did they give him a piano? He slammed his fist against the wall. Why did they not use him like everyone else? He purposely hit a lamp sending it tumbling to the ground. Why didn’t they beat him like he deserved? He kicked the bed. Why wouldn’t they insult Blaine and remind him what a worthless person he was? He tore one of the pictures off the wall. Why!? He shook with anger, with confusion, with fear. WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY!?

Kurt watched smiling as Blaine took the piano from him. His smiled turn to a frown when he saw Blaine’s face go from shock, to confusion, and then ultimately to anger. Unexpectedly he threw the piano hard enough to damage it beyond repair. Then went into a fit. He began destroying the room. Kurt and his father safely stood outside the door making sure Blaine didn’t seriously injure himself. This was something they were familiar with. They left him to his fit knowing if they tried to interrupt in any way, they would only make it worse as well as endanger themselves.

Once Blaine was done throwing things, he began wildly waving his hands above his head. His fingers were flexing and releasing on either side of him as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. His head shook almost violently from side to side and face contorted in anguish. If Blaine wasn’t mute, he would be screaming by now. The exhaustive effort of fighting turned to ultimate confusion, and this was how he expressed it. He was in pain. And now he was showing them his pain. Blaine curled up on the floor next to his bed, rocking back and forth. Thankfully unharmed besides a few minor scratches, they closed the door.

At last his foster brother showed emotion, besides fear, for the first time. While explosive, perhaps they could move forward. One layer had been pulled away; they were that much closer to healing the damaged boy within.

Hours later, Blaine slowly got up to collect the destroyed keyboard. He plugged it in and tried to play a note. There was no sound. It was as damaged as Blaine.

The days pressed on and no punishment came after his fit. He expected something, a punch, isolation, even a harsh word. All they did was clean up his mess, replace the broken things in Blaine’s room, and carry on like nothing happened. Like Blaine didn’t just throw something against the wall. Like he didn’t just ruin the room. Like he wasn’t completely horrible. He deserved punishment. He deserved their anger -something, anything! But there was nothing. Who were these people? What did they want from him?

If they wouldn’t punish him, he would make them. Blaine stated acting out.