Blaine took a deep breath. He had calmed down a little and was ready to tell Kurt, who was currently holding him close, his arms tight and warm around Blaine’s mid-section. Blaine couldn’t pinpoint a moment in which he had ever felt this safe or cared for. Kurt was there to help him, to actually listen to him, and that made him begin his story.
‘I still remember the first time it happened. The first time my dad hit me. I was six years old. My mom had started talking back to my dad, had started standing up for herself and for me. My dad would come home every day and hit her because of some silly reason: because the meal wasn’t ready, or because there was a wrinkle in his shirt that she was supposed to have ironed without a flaw. I remember that I hadn’t eaten everything that was on my plate.’ Blaine let out a dry, humorless chuckle, and Kurt pulled him impossibly closer in response. ‘My mom made steamed vegetables and there was broccoli. If there was ever something that I hated eating, it was broccoli. So I pushed it to one side of my plate and ate the rest. Simple as that. My father wouldn’t have it, though; he dragged me out of my chair by the collar and started yelling that I should eat what was on my plate. Because it was food that he worked for, that he paid for. That I should show some respect to my mom for cooking for me, even though he didn’t have respect for her whatsoever. He hit me with the back of his hand and stormed out of the kitchen, pushing my mom away when he passed her. I started crying, of course, like the six year old that I was. My mom shushed me and told me that the pain would stop when I kept whining about how it hurt. She left us two weeks later.’ Tears started streaming again, both his and Kurt’s now. Kurt was shaking softly at his side, trying to hide his sniffs.
Blaine looked up and locked eyes with the gorgeous blue-eyed object of his affection, stroking his thumb over Kurt’s cheek to brush away some of the tears that were leaving tracks on his cheeks.
‘Kurt, don’t cry because of me. Please,’ He looked at Kurt with wide eyes.
‘I just… can’t imagine it, you know? I can’t imagine what it felt like for you, what it feels like to not be accepted by or cared about by the people who should love you no matter what, how you can still smile… You’re so brave, Blaine. And I hate it that your dad can’t see you like that, that he only sees you as a punching bag because God, you’re amazing. You don’t deserve any of this.’ Kurt pressed his face in Blaine’s hair, inhaling deeply before looking back at Blaine and giving him a watery smile. ‘I’m just glad you can talk to me. I have you now.’ Blaine’s insides were being attacked by thousands of butterflies when those words escaped Kurt’s lips. He stopped thinking about all the bullshit in his life for just a few minutes because of Kurt, because of the perfect, flawless human being that he was.
‘Should I continue telling you what has been happening ever since?’ Blaine asked waveringly.
Kurt just nodded in response, removing one of his arms from Blaine to dry his tears before sniffing discretely and refocusing on Blaine’s words again.
‘So, since my mom left, I have been my dad’s punching bag. He has no one else but me; his family has rejected him and he rejected his own family. I was lucky enough to have my grandfather paying for my tuition at Dalton the last couple of years. He practically forced my dad to allow me to go there. I’ve known that I was gay for years, but when I came out to my dad last year, he went insane. He started to insult me. Never before that day had he beaten me more times or more intensely. He was gay bashing me. That was when he decided that I should go to public school where the bullies would “teach me a lesson”. He liked the idea of me getting harassed for being gay, being a screw-up, he liked to call that ‘a lesson’. When I got home today, I was texting you. I tried to be quiet and not provoke my dad, but all the provocation he needed was the smile on my face when I walked into the kitchen with my phone still in my hand, texting you back about meeting you at the Lima Bean tomorrow morning. He smacked me in the face, and that explains the redness, and took my phone when I was thrown to the ground and sent you that untrue and ugly message because he knew that he would once again ruin something special for me. Then, he just left and I fled the house to go to a playground close by to think about how to make it up to you. I got frustrated and punched the wood, hence the scratches on my hands. Afterwards, I called Mike to ask for your address. You mean too much to me to just be ripped away from me like that, Kurt. And it has only been a day since we met… Just don’t leave me now that you know how Broken I really am.’ Blaine was shaking again, tears refusing to stop cascading downwards. Kurt silently looked at the boy who was falling apart in his arms. He was disgusted and shocked while listening to Blaine recounting his father’s insanity. He was terrified for he might do to Blaine once he returned home again. He couldn’t even begin to think about leaving Blaine. He just wanted to cradle the boy in his arms and rock him back and forth into peace. When Blaine continued sobbing, Kurt dipped his arm underneath the shorter boy’s legs and used the other to support Blaine’s back while lifting him into his lap, his arms once again wrapping around Blaine. Kurt wasn’t able to let go and he knew in that instant that he would never be able to leave Blaine.
‘You might be broken, Blaine. But you’re also a light in my life. I was stumbling through another bad day when I met you. You brightened my day immediately, Blaine.’ Not just my day, but my life Kurt added in his mind. Blaine sniffed and snuggled closer to Kurt, who just wrapped his arms tighter around him.
You’re my Broken Angel, was all Kurt could think before they both tumbled into a daze of emotional exhaustion.

/

Burt looked at his watch for what seemed to be the tenth time a span of 10 minutes, and let out a huff of frustration. It had been an hour and a half since that Blaine-kid turned up at his front door and he and Kurt had disappeared into Kurt’s bedroom. Burt didn’t want to interrupt the time that Kurt needed to stop Blaine from crying, but God, how long could it take?! Carole was looking at him with a petite smile spread on her lips and a spark in her eyes.
‘If you really want to know what they’re up to, why don’t you just go down to Kurt’s room?’ she said in a sweet voice, Burt looked back at her with eyes as big as saucers.
He thought for a moment before letting out another huff, this time in acknowledgement.
He got up from his chair and made his way towards Kurt’s door and descended the stairs that led to the wide white space, only to be surprised by the sight before him. Blaine and Kurt were leaning against the headboard of Kurt’s bed, both with their eyes closed and peaceful smiles on both their lips. But that wasn’t what had caught Burt off guard. It was the way the two boys were tangled together: Blaine was sitting sideways between Kurt’s legs, his arms circling tightly around Kurt’s waist like Kurt’s did around his own. His head was tucked beneath Kurt’s chin, and his lips rested against the pale boy’s neck. Burt observed the scene for a few minutes longer, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips because if this was what it looked like, Kurt would have a lot of explaining to do later, both to him and Carole. He cleared his throat in a very loud and obnoxious manner, making sure that both of the boys would be awakened by it, and watched as his son nearly jumped a foot into the air, scrambling away from Blaine who blinked warily like a puppy that had just tumbled out of bed.
‘It’s almost time for dinner, Kurt,’ Burt said. He really couldn’t come up with something else to say that wasn’t going to make this moment less awkward.
‘Oh. Okay. I’m sorry, Dad. We kind of… fell asleep,’ Kurt spluttered.
‘I saw that,’ Burt simply answered before leaving the room again and hearing his son let out a soft groan of embarrassment behind him. God, how Burt loved being a father. And what kind of father would he be without embarrassing his son a little.

/

‘Sorry about that,’ Kurt said, turning to Blaine with a small smile grazing his lips. It disappeared quickly when he saw Blaine’s eyes well up with tears again.
‘Hey, hey, Blaine. What’s wrong?’ Kurt said. He rested his hands on Blaine’s shoulders and nudged him a little to get his attention. Blaine kept his eyes fixated stubbornly on his trembling hands in his lap.
‘I don’t want to go back,’ Blaine muttered and Kurt felt his heart break in that moment.
‘I… Blaine. Can you give me a minute? You can stay here.’ Kurt received a tiny almost imperceptible nod from Blaine in response. Then he practically ran upstairs.
Blaine pulled his knees close to his chest again and tried to calm himself down and force the tears back. He didn’t know what to do next, he knew that he didn’t want to go back home. If he had a choice, he’d never want to see his house – or his dad - again. But where the hell was he supposed to go if he couldn’t return to his Dad? His dad , simply thinking about his father as… well, just thinking about him made him sick to his stomach. Blaine hadn’t even talked to Burt Hummel for that long but from what he gathered, Kurt couldn’t even grasp what he was feeling towards his dad… So it was quite obvious that Kurt never endured mistreatment from his family. Kurt was so gentle, so loving and caring towards him… Blaine knew what he needed to get back up, to pull himself together. He needed love.
And there was one more thing he knew: if Kurt let him, Blaine would love Kurt, would cherish him and Kurt would do the same for him, at least he hoped he would. His breath got stuck in his throat; he had never felt like this before, especially not because of a guy he had just met. But Blaine couldn’t help it, he wanted to know Kurt, wanted to explore, to enjoy and to discover every single facet of the beautiful boy who had helped him throughout the day. If Kurt hadn’t been there for him, as he was now, Blaine would have probably gone to one of his friends from Dalton or to one of his family members, but he would have acted like he was just fine. Being able to tell someone about the situation he endured every day, the things he had to suffer, being able to tell Kurt, it had been his rescue, his relief, his salvation. Blaine knew it. He looked up when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs towards Kurt’s bedroom. He expected it to be Kurt, but instead he was greeted by a woman around her mid-forties and with a friendly posture, looking at him with a small, compassionate smile.
‘Hey, Blaine. I’m Carole, Kurt’s stepmom. Will you come upstairs with me? We’d like to talk to you about some things.’ Blaine merely nodded before going towards the woman and following her up the stairs and into the living room where Burt was sitting on an old couch, with Kurt seated on the coffee table, hunched over and his arms folded across his legs, a frown set in his features. When Burt looked back to see Blaine and Carole come in, he flashed Blaine a quick smile before nodding to where Kurt was sitting, indicating that he should sit down beside him on the small table.
Kurt looked at him apologetically when Blaine was seated next to him and hesitated briefly before taking Blaine’s bandaged hand in both of his. Blaine laid his other hand on top of Kurt’s and relished in the warmth of the touch for a moment before looking up at Kurt’s parents, both their faces set in worry. Blaine didn’t even need to hear the words to know what was coming.
‘Kurt told us everything, Blaine.’