“Blaine, just calm down, please?”

“Calm down? How the hell am I supposed to calm down? You’re in New York, you don’t give a shit!”

Cooper Anderson let out a long sigh. “You’re my little brother; of course I give a shit. Just explain what’s happened?”

“I… I can’t… He’ll kill me…”

“Okay, so I know its Dad. What’s that asshole done this time? Blaine, has he hurt you again?” When Blaine didn’t answer, he sighed. “I’m guessing that’s a yes. For fuck sake Blaine, go to the police. Do what I couldn’t do.”

“I can’t Cooper. I… I just need someone to talk to.”

“Its two-thirty in the morning bro, I’ll call you tomorrow okay?”

The line went dead and Blaine let out a sob. His own brother was unable to help him. He could hear his father calling his name, but Blaine ignored him. There was no way he wanted to see him. He stood up slowly and pulled his shirt off. He was wheezing – no doubt he’d have more serious bruising to his ribs. He looked in his mirror and sighed. There was already a purple tint on his eye, and several bruises on his neck, snaking all down his body. He’d have a hard time explaining these, especially his eye. Blaine shuddered. Kurt was going to be livid. He picked up his phone, dialling his number slowly. He answered on the first ring, despite the early hour.

“Blaine?”

“Hi…”

“Are you alright?”

He hesitated. “No… Not really. I… I think I need someone to talk to.”

“I made things worse, didn’t I?”

“Not really. He would have done it anyway.” He heard Kurt moan on the other end of the phone. “I’m fine. I just want to talk. I need a distraction.”

“Blaine, don’t you dare tell me you’re fine. You sound like you’re struggling to breathe. What the hell’s he done to you this time?”

“It’s just my ribs, honestly, I’ll be fine.”

“Go hospital.”

His answer was blunt. Blaine could almost imagine him shaking with rage.

“I don’t need to. I just need to lie down and sleep.”

“Blaine, you can barely breathe. He’s damaged your ribs – believe me, I know how that feels.”

“It’s just my asthma," he lied quickly. "I have an inhaler.”

“Then use it, dumbass.” He could hear the smile in Kurt’s voice, almost as though he was trying to cheer him up.

“I don’t want to go get it…”

“Why not… Oh… it’s with him, isn’t it? Right, just breathe. Do you want me to come over?”

“No, that’ll just make him angry. Honestly, I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that tomorrow, thanks.”

“You mean today… Um… when do you want me to tutor you?”

Kurt seemed to understand that Blaine didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “What about after school? My dad’ll be working, so it won’t matter if you come to my house. At least then, you can away from him for a while.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll remember to bring my French books to school. Kurt?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Being nice to me.”

Kurt laughed. The sound seemed to lift Blaine’s heart. “Oh Blaine, you have no idea how funny that sounded. You should know by now I’m not nice to many people – you’re special.”

“I’m not special…”

“Don’t make me kick your ass,” he interrupted, making Blaine laugh.

“Stop, it hurts to laugh Kurt!”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” His voice had lost the humour from before. “Are you… are you sure you’re okay?”

“I will be, don’t worry.”

“BLAINE!”

He jumped, his grip on the phone tightening.

“That’s your dad, isn’t it?” Kurt said, whispering even though he was miles away.

“Yes,” Blaine breathed back. “He’s angry.”

“Stay away from him, okay? Just don’t let him near you.”

“Yes,” he said again, although he knew it was impossible. There were tears in his eyes. He slid to the floor, trying to blink them back. “Kurt, I’m going to have to go.”

“No! Blaine, stay on the phone to me!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow; I’ll make sure I have my French books.”

“Blaine Anderson, don’t you dare hang up on me-”

He ended the call. Kurt was going to be angry, he knew it. The door burst open and Blaine closed his eyes. There were some things he didn’t need to hear, and this was one of them.

Kurt could hear his father walking around upstairs. He yawned, stretched and got out of bed. After a quick shower and change of clothes, he went up to the kitchen, not surprised to see his father there.

“You should lay off the pancakes Dad,” he said, helping himself to a bowl of cereal. “You need to remember your heart.”

Burt Hummel rolled his eyes, smiling. “Kurt, I’m the parent here, I should be telling you what to do, not the other way round.”

“When have you ever told me what to do?” His father laughed and Kurt smiled. He sat down opposite him. “Dad… Can I talk to you?”

Burt looked up and frowned. He nodded and set down his fork.

“I… I’m so angry. I can’t even begin to explain…”

“Just start at the beginning Kurt – you know I’ll listen.”

Kurt told him everything Blaine had said on the phone in the early hours of the morning, and what he’d seen the previous day. Burt was silent, but his expression was clear.

“And he hung up on you?” Kurt nodded. “When his dad was looking for him?” Again, he nodded. “Shit Kurt, this is bad."

“You don’t think I know that? I… I don’t know what to do.”

“You really care about this boy, don’t you?”

“It’s not like that Dad, you know I don’t date.”

“I never said it was buddy, but you can’t deny that you care about him. He won’t go to the police?” He shook his head and Burt sighed. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

Kurt hesitated. “Maybe – he’s coming round tonight.” Burt frowned. “He’s going to help me with French Dad, nothing like you think. He’s a genius. I have to go; I don’t want to be late for school.”

Burt just nodded. He watched his son leave the house with a heavy heart. Poor Kurt – he’d gone ten years being too afraid to get close to anyone except for him. Yet, now he was finally growing close to a person, they were a victim of abuse. He shook his head and rose to leave for work.

“Okay, let me see them.”

Kurt’s voice was loud, making Blaine jump. He kept his back to him, trying to hide his face for a little while longer.

“Not here Kurt – can you please keep your voice down?”

“Fine, let’s go into the locker room.”

Blaine nodded and walked forwards, still keeping his face turned away from Kurt. Thankfully, the locker room was empty, although that was probably because it was eight in the morning. Blaine sat on one of the benches, his back facing Kurt.

“Turn around.” When he didn’t do anything, Kurt rolled his eyes. “Blaine, I’m going to have to see this one way or another. Turn around.”

With a sigh, Blaine turned to face him. Kurt was unable to hide his anger. The bruise on his face had spread overnight, until a quarter of his face was purple. Kurt crossed the room and crouched in front of him, his eyes dark.

“Have you done anything to treat it, like an ice pack?” Blaine shook his head. “Why?” He shrugged. Kurt stood up, walked over to the freezer where they kept the cubes used for ice baths. He took a strip of cloth used for bandages and tied a handful of cubes inside. He walked back over to Blaine and pressed it to his face gently. Blaine let out a whimper but otherwise didn’t protest.

“I know it hurts,” he whispered. “But it’ll help, believe me. Hold it in place.”

Blaine nodded and took the ice from him, keeping it against his face.

“You’re still determined not to tell anyone, aren’t you?” He nodded again. “I told my dad this morning.”

“You did what?!”

“Shut up Blaine, he’s not going to go running to the police. Do you really think I’d be that stupid? No, I told him because I don’t know what to do. You won’t help yourself, but you won’t let other people help you either. My dad said he’d try and help, without going to the police.”

Blaine nodded for a third time. “Was he mad?”

“A little, but only because you won’t do anything about it – don’t worry, he isn’t mad at you, just your dad.” Kurt sighed and sat down beside him. “If you aren’t going to tell anyone what happened, we need to think of a cover story.”

“How about you punched me because I messed up some of your homework?”

Kurt laughed without humour. “Somehow, I don’t think so. No, we need something realistic.”

“I fell down the stairs?”

He rolled his eyes. “If that’s the best you can do Blaine, fine. But that isn’t going to work forever.” They sat in silence for a while. Blaine was shaking. It broke Kurt’s heart. He reached over and took his hand in his own, squeezing it gently. Blaine jumped at the contact, but he smiled. He obviously wasn’t used to such a gentle touch. The bell rang and they both sighed simultaneously. They stood up, gave each other quick smiles, and disappeared to their first lessons.

Blaine didn’t see Kurt again until lunch.

He sat alone on a table, picking at his food. He was one of the first ones in the cafeteria, and slowly as people began to file in, the rest of Glee club joined him.

“Hey Blaine, how’d you find glee?”

“How are you finding McKinley then?”

“What’s your… dude, what happened to your face?”

Blaine flushed and bowed his head. “I fell.”

“You… you fell?” Rachel’s voice was sceptical.

“Yeah, there’s a little step to get into my kitchen, and I fell down it. I ended up hitting my face on the bar stool as I went down.”

She cringed. “That sounds so painful. I’d die if my face looked like that, even for a week or two.”

“Great way to make him feel better, Berry.” They all looked up to see Kurt, standing beside their table. As though she could read his mind, Rachel moved seats, allowing him to sit beside Blaine. “Thanks.” He said without looking at her. They all stared at him, intimidated. “Well, don’t let me stop you doing whatever you do.”

Immediately, they broke into determined conversation.

“Thank you,” Blaine whispered. For an answer, Kurt winked. The conversation through lunch flowed easily. Blaine actually felt like he was being included, he could tell they were trying to include Kurt as much as possible. Thankfully, he responded warmly. It was like he was a totally different Kurt. How was it possible for him to switch from hardcore, intimating heart-throb, to sweet and care-free guy so quickly?

“So, are the New Directions entering regionals?” Kurt asked politely.

The girl called Rachel nodded. “Yeah, of course we are, we aced sectionals. Although we aren’t entirely sure what the set list is going to be yet. We have to work on that, I think we’re doing that today.”

“Do we have any ideas yet?”

She shook her head at him. “No. We’ve been trying to get a spy in the Warblers, but we haven’t had any success.”

“The Warblers?” Blaine repeated, looking up. “You… We’re going against the Warblers – from Dalton Academy?”

“Yeah dude,” Puck said. “We drew with them at sectionals, so they put us both through. That's not a problem, is it?”

They were all staring at him. Blaine lowered his eyes and mumbled “That was my old school.”

“You serious bro, you went to Dalton?” He nodded. “Damn! What made you transfer here?”

“My… my dad stopped paying my tuition, so I didn’t have a choice.”

“Did you know any of the Warblers? What were they planning to sing?” Rachel said, leaning closer. Blaine had to admit, she was determined to win at regionals. He nodded, biting his lip.

“I was one of their lead singers,” he said quietly.

“Blaine what was their set list?” She cried. He shrugged. Rachel leaped up and gave him a shove, causing him to cry out in pain. She ignored him, and pushed him again. There were tears in Blaine’s eyes – his ribs were on fire. “Tell me Blaine!”

“Rachel, what the hell are you doing?” Kurt said loudly, standing up. The tables surrounding them fell quiet at his shout.

“I… I just…”

“He used to be a Warbler – they were his friends and he doesn’t know what they were planning to sing. There was no reason to fucking shove him!”

Most of the people in the cafeteria had fallen silent now. They were all watching the scene closely – they all knew exactly what Kurt Hummel was like.

“Kurt, I didn’t mean to hurt him-”

“He’s hurt and you’ve probably just made it worse. Why can’t you just win fair and square?” She bowed her head. “Because you’re pathetic, that’s why. You’re so desperate to win; you don’t care what it takes. Can’t you see how badly Blaine’s been hurt? He’s been pushed around enough.”

Blaine was silent. His head was bowed – he was afraid to look the others in the eye. He looked weak and he knew it. He felt tears escape his eyes. Without waiting for Kurt, Blaine stood up and left the now-totally silent canteen.

“Blaine, wait!”

He ignored Kurt’s voice and carried on walking, not entirely sure where his feet were taking him. He ended up sat in the middle of the stage in the auditorium. He was crying – they were the kind of sobs that physically hurt. His pain was increased due to the state of his ribs.

Eventually, he got to his feet, moving over to the piano. Before he knew that he was doing, his fingers were gliding across the keys effortlessly. He missed playing. The minute he had started getting good at it, his father cancelled his lessons. That didn’t stop him, however, from playing at Dalton in his spare time. Blaine taught most of what he knew to himself, including how to read sheet music. It was the one thing he felt good at and it made him proud.

“Blaine, you’re going to be late for your next lesson.”

He looked up to see Mr Schuester at the front of the stage. Blaine stopped, panicking.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t… I just wanted to be alone… I didn’t know…”

“Relax,” he said, climbing onto the stage and sitting beside him on the piano bench. “Kurt came to see me. I was a bit surprised actually, he never talks to anyone.”

“What did he say?” said Blaine quickly, unable to hide his fear.

“He… he’s worried about you. Blaine, Kurt told me everything.”