CHAPTER 20

“Kurt, you can’t stay in bed forever.”

Kurt tore his eyes away from the ceiling to look at Carole standing in the doorway.

“I’m sick,” he rasped, his voice rough from disuse.

“No, you’re heartsick, which is another thing entirely,” she said gently. “And I understand, I really do, but it’s been four days.”

Kurt turned to curl on his side, closing his eyes. “No, really, it must be some kind of virus. I have a fever and everything hurts.”

“Sweetie, you can fool your dad, but I’m a nurse and a mother, remember?” There was a smile in Carole’s voice and Kurt turned his head to look at her, mortified. She shrugged. “I’ve known you’re faking all along. I’ve covered for you, because I get it – sometimes we just need to hide for a bit to gather strength before dealing with trouble. But too much of it doesn’t help, Kurt. It’s time to leave the bed.”

Kurt sighed and sat up against the headboard. “I really feel sick though. Every time I think about Blaine in that place… I can’t breathe knowing he’s being hurt.” His eyes stung again, the aching tightness in his chest familiar by now. “I didn’t even manage to see him before they took him away. He must think I just left him,” he said in a small voice. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it for the last four days. “Did you know that he had an owner who used to leave him alone in a locked apartment for weeks? Blaine was fourteen. He’s terrified of being abandoned, I can’t imagine how he’s feeling now.”

Despite his dad’s intervention, nothing could have been done to get Blaine out of the correction facility before the six weeks period was over. Such was the law, and Kurt’s dad didn’t have enough clout to get it bent for them. Not for the first time, Kurt wished his father would have run for Senate when he’d had the chance. Then again, with his unpopular beliefs about slavery he would never have won, and the publicity might have put their family and the business, including the slaves at the garage, at risk. Violent attacks on “liberals” who were too vocal about slave rights were hardly uncommon.

They’d spent the rest of Sunday trying all available ways to get Blaine home, or even just get permission to see him, but all for naught. And as the hours had passed and the last bit of hope dissipated, Kurt had found himself in a dark cloud of despair.

He turned his face away, embarrassed about his tears, but Carole would have none of it. She entered the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, turning Kurt’s head towards her with a gentle hand on his chin.

“Honey, you know it’s not your fault, right?” she asked.

A little sob caught in Kurt’s throat. “Of course it’s my fault!” he choked out. “I bought him that stupid, easily removable collar. I left him there alone. I pissed off that guy when we first met. How can you say it’s not my fault?”

Carole put her warm, soft hand on his. “You did nothing wrong, Kurt,” she said firmly. “You shouldn’t have had to worry about how good the lock on Blaine’s collar was, or be afraid to leave him alone for five minutes. People have their slaves running errands by themselves all the time. No one has a right to touch your slave without your permission, you know that. The only one who’s at fault here is that Sebastian boy. It’s his actions that caused the whole terrible situation. Blaming yourself won’t do you or Blaine any good.”

Kurt sniffed and reached for a tissue. His brain knew all that, but his heart was another thing.

“Thank you, Carole,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Will you let me have one last day off tomorrow? I’m not sure I can face school yet.”

She sighed. “Okay. Just this once. But you’re back to school on Monday, mister. And I expect you to be mostly over that ‘virus’ of yours by tomorrow. Your dad’s starting to worry.”

“I will. Thank you.”

She leaned in to hug him and he accepted it gratefully, even though it made him suddenly self-conscious about the state he was in. He hadn’t showered or changed out of his pajamas since Monday, and his face was still wet with tears.

By the time his dad came home from work, Kurt was curled up on the couch wrapped in a blanket, drinking tea. Things were still very much not okay, but he had to find a way to survive the next five weeks without falling apart. Blaine would need him strong when he returned.

*

“I forgot to tell you, I called that correction facility yesterday,” Kurt’s dad said over lunch on Saturday.

Kurt’s head shot up. “Did you find a way to get Blaine out?”

“No, sorry kiddo. But I wanted to check on him. They said that he’s fine and isn’t causing any trouble. That’s good.”

“Of course he isn’t causing any trouble.” Kurt frowned. “When did Blaine ever cause any trouble?”

His dad sighed, as if regretting starting the topic. “Kurt… those places are rough. If he’s good, there’s a bigger chance nothing bad happens to him there. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Oh.”

The bit of salad he’d managed to eat suddenly felt like lead in Kurt’s stomach. He put away his fork. “I’m not feeling well. I have to lie down for a bit.” He saw Carole and his dad exchange worried glances, but he didn’t stop. He needed to be alone. Now, before the tears came again.

Normally, Kurt would seek comfort in his family. But now, with so much he hadn’t told them, how could he? They didn’t know how important Blaine had become to him. They didn’t know that the only reason Blaine had been at the mall at all – not to mention, alone – was because Kurt had made a rash decision to talk to him about New York, and then backpedaled, leaving Blaine confused and probably terrified, unsure what was happening. It had been a cruel thing to do for the ten minutes Kurt was away, let alone six weeks. And it didn’t matter that it wasn’t intentional cruelty. Thoughtlessness was just as bad.

Kurt was still curled up on his bed three hours later, for the hundredth time going through everything that he should have done differently, when his phone chirped with an incoming message. He reached for it out of instinct more than interest.

Come outside.

The text was from an unknown number and Kurt frowned at it before pressing the call button. The phone was picked up on the first ring.

“Please tell me you’re home and can come outside,” a vaguely familiar voice said before Kurt could get out a word.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“It’s Sebastian. Come on, I have something for you.” There was a smile in his voice. “Don’t make us wait.”

Kurt had never ran down the stairs so fast. It was a miracle he didn’t trip in his socked feet and fall face first down the steps. Ignoring his dad’s surprised expression, he sped to the door, wrenched it open and ran out onto the lawn–

And immediately found himself with an armful of Blaine. Kurt pulled him closer and held him tight, stroking his heaving back as Blaine shook with his face hidden on Kurt’s shoulder.

“Oh god, you’re here,” Kurt whispered, hardly able to believe it. “You’re okay. It’s okay, I’ve got you now. You’re safe.” He wasn’t sure if it was Blaine he was reassuring or himself, but it didn’t matter. Blaine was back.

“How did you manage to get him out?” Kurt’s dad asked from the doorway. Kurt looked up to see Sebastian standing a few steps away.

“My father is a state attorney,” Sebastian said. “I told him what happened and got him to pull some strings. I would have done it sooner but he was out of state until yesterday. I’m sorry it took so long. I’m really sorry it happened at all.”

Kurt took a shaky breath, his arms tightening around Blaine. “Thank you,” he snapped. “Now go the fuck away.”

Sebastian nodded stiffly and got into his car. A moment later he disappeared around the bend, and Kurt hoped he would never have to see him again.

“Come on, honey, let’s get you home,” he said, and Blaine nodded and raised his head. Kurt’s breath caught in his throat.

Blaine’s bottom lip was split and his eyes were wet and reddened, with deep circles around them. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days. His dirty, tangled hair and a week’s worth of beard completed the picture. It was like a flashback to November, as though every vision Kurt had had over the last week turned real, and for a moment, Kurt couldn’t move, seized with terror.

“Come inside boys, it’s too cold to be standing out here like this.” Carole was by their side all of a sudden. She put her hand on Blaine’s shoulder to lead him, but Blaine whimpered and held tighter to Kurt.

That was enough to snap Kurt out of his shock. Keeping an arm around Blaine’s shoulders, he led him inside and into the living room. Blaine cuddled into his side immediately when they sat down on the couch, hiding his face on Kurt’s shoulder again. He was still trembling.

It took long minutes of soothing strokes and gentle words before Blaine’s breathing evened out, and even longer before he straightened up and sat on his own, no longer clinging. He didn’t say anything, just sat there with his head hung low and his hands tucked between his knees, and Kurt suddenly felt at a loss. Blaine was back home, but it felt like so much must have happened since he’d left that Kurt didn’t quite know what to do, what to say, how to react. It was no use asking Blaine how he was – he was obviously not okay. Any other questions seemed similarly callous. But he couldn’t act as if everything was normal either, could he? Not when Blaine had been through hell and back in the last week.

He was grateful when Carole approached them and kneeled in front of the couch, trying to catch Blaine’s eyes.

“I’ll draw you a bath, sweetie, okay?” she said gently.

Blaine glanced up at her and nodded. He got up to follow Carole to the bathroom, and Kurt had an impulse to protest, say it was his job to take care of Blaine, but he stopped himself. It wasn’t about him and his needs. It was about Blaine, and right now, Blaine needed someone who wasn’t freaking out and going crazy with worry. Taking the back seat for the moment and calming down first was probably the right thing to do.

Grabbing fresh pajamas from Blaine’s room, Kurt knocked on the bathroom door a few minutes later.

“Come in,” Carole called out, and Kurt opened the door.

Blaine was standing in front of the mirror with his shirt off and his eyes down, and Kurt gasped at the sight of the red and purple whip marks littering his back. There were dozens, in different stages of healing – some fresh and still raised, others almost completely faded, still others bruised yellow. At least the skin wasn’t broken anywhere and Blaine didn’t seem to be in any discomfort as Carole inspected them gently, tracing her fingers across his back.

“Thank you, Kurt,” she said when he put Blaine’s clothes on the counter. “Would you mind bringing me the big first aid bag from our bedroom? I have the antibiotic cream and the suture strips there. I’ll have to take care of Blaine’s hands after his bath.”

It was only now that Kurt realized Blaine had his hands palms up on the counter, and he winced, seeing the state of them. The skin of his palms must have blistered at some point, but now it was well beyond that, with big red patches of raw flesh where the blisters had been and his knuckles scraped bloody. Carole was inspecting a deeper cut across the middle of Blaine’s left palm. Kurt felt a little sick.

“Of course,” he said and hurried to get the bag.

When he peeked in again, Blaine was sitting chest-deep in the warm bath with his eyes closed, and Carole was pouring shower gel onto his sponge.

“Do you need any help?” Kurt asked.

“No, I’ll finish up here and dress Blaine’s hands. Why don’t you start on dinner?”

“Okay.”

He knew he really shouldn’t feel so sulky and irrationally jealous. Carole was helping, making sure Blaine was okay, and her nursing skills made her a much more adequate caretaker at this point. But she didn’t love Blaine like Kurt did. It was Kurt’s job to take care of Blaine, to soothe and comfort him. Plus, letting Blaine out of his sight after he’d only just miraculously gotten him back felt like torture, like Blaine was bound to disappear if Kurt didn’t make sure he was really here.

With a sigh, Kurt went into the kitchen.

*

Dinner was a quiet affair. Blaine sat in silence, slumped over his plate, eating little. Kurt could barely eat, too – there was too much chaos in his head with all the emotions of the day. He just wanted to talk to Blaine; to hold him and make sure he was okay; to never let him go.

The fork slipped out of Blaine’s bandaged hand for the second time in two minutes’ period, and Carole gently suggested, “How about going to bed, sweetie? You look exhausted.”

Blaine nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly and got up from the table. He glanced at Kurt, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then he turned and went.

Kurt was halfway out of his chair before his dad put a hand on his wrist. “Let him rest. You will have all day tomorrow, when you’re both less shaken. Blaine’s not going anywhere.”

Kurt sighed and nodded, sitting back down to move his food around the plate some more.

But his mind clearly didn’t accept the assurance. Even hours later, when he was lying in his own bed, his thoughts were with the boy downstairs – wondering how he felt, what he thought, what he needed. His sleep, when it finally came, was shallow and restless, so it was no wonder that the quiet knocking on his door in the middle of the night woke him up instantly. He looked at the clock: it was nearly two a.m.

He was out of bed in seconds, his heart pounding wildly. Had something happened?

Blaine looked small and fragile, hunched in the dark hallway in his striped pajamas.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Kurt asked breathlessly, and Blaine looked up at him. In the moonlight falling through the window Kurt could see he’d been crying.

“Kurt.” The whisper rushed out of Blaine’s mouth, his relief palpable, and Kurt reached for Blaine’s hand without thinking and pulled him into the room.

“I’m right here, baby. What can I do? How can I help?”

Blaine took a shuddering breath. He hesitated no longer than a heartbeat. “Remember when you told me I should always ask when I needed anything?” he whispered.

“Of course. Anything.”

“Could I… would you let me sleep here on the floor tonight? So that I know I’m not… not alone?”

Kurt’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. “Of course, honey.” He stepped towards the bed, still holding Blaine’s hand. “Not on the floor though. My bed is big enough for both of us.”

He should probably ask his dad first, or at least let him know, but there was no way he was going to wake him up now and risk him saying no. Blaine needed him. And frankly, he needed Blaine too.

Blaine looked too exhausted to protest. He slid under the covers and lay very still on the edge of the bed. Kurt followed suit. The bed really was wide enough. They didn’t even touch when they settled on their sides, facing each other.

“Have you slept at all?” Kurt asked, concerned.

“Yes. But then I woke up and everything was quiet and dark, and I felt like I was all alone in the whole world and I just–” Blaine broke off and took a tremulous breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t ever apologize for asking for what you need,” Kurt said fervently. “It’s me who should be sorry, Blaine. And I am – so, so sorry about what happened. I should have never left you there alone, I should have made sure your collar couldn’t be taken off by a stranger. I should have protected you, and I wasn’t there. And after starting a conversation like that… You must have thought I abandoned you.”

Blaine looked at him, surprised. “I didn’t. You wouldn’t do that. You promised me.”

Somehow, the trust – and knowing how precious it was, coming from Blaine – made Kurt feel even worse.

“I will never forgive myself for putting you in danger. For getting you hurt.” His voice broke, catching in his throat.

Blaine reached out, hesitating briefly before putting his bandaged hand over Kurt’s. “I’m fine,” he said softly. “The work was hard, but the punishments weren’t too bad. Just… thinking I would never see you again...” He paused, tears filling his eyes. “I thought that he did something, that I could never go back to you. And that was not… I couldn’t…” He curled up on himself, his face crumbling again.

Kurt reached for him without thinking. “Shh. Shh sweetie, come here. You’re safe now. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again, I promise. I love you so much.”

Blaine went easily, scooting over until he was flush against Kurt, tucked sweetly in his arms with his face pressed into Kurt’s neck, his breath shuddering for a while before evening out. They lay in silence, taking comfort in each other’s presence, and soon Blaine’s body relaxed completely in Kurt’s embrace. He seemed to have fallen asleep again. Kurt closed his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him too, enjoying the feeling of having Blaine safe and whole in his arms.

“Kurt?” Blaine’s sleepy whisper washed warm against Kurt’s neck just as he was drifting off.

“Hm?”

“I love you too.”

Kurt just smiled and snuggled closer. He fell asleep with his lips on Blaine’s forehead.

*

The knocking woke Kurt up barely after seven.

“Kurt do you know where­–” his dad said urgently, opening the door. “Oh”, he finished. “There he is.” He looked between Kurt and Blaine, who was curled up with his head on Kurt’s shoulder, fast asleep. “Sorry, my bad,” Kurt’s dad said and closed the door softly.

Kurt lay there for a while, blinking himself fully awake and luxuriating in the relief of having Blaine back and safe in his arms. Then he gently extracted himself out of Blaine’s embrace, tucked him in, and tiptoed out of the room.

His dad was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and an unreadable expression. Kurt poured a cup for himself and settled down opposite him.

“Dad? I need to talk to you.”