Blaine doesn't want to see a therapist. 

He doesn't want to sit in front of a stranger, his bruises from that night still(after all this time) stark against his skin, and talk about his feelings. He doesn't see how that will help. The truth of the matter is, Blaine Anderson is broken. He is fifteen, he has just been unable to graduate ninth grade due to missing huge chunks of the year, and he is broken.

A stranger will not be able to fix him.

But his mother is adamant. Blaine's father doesn't give a shit, Mr Anderson stopped being concerned as soon as Blaine came out of the hospital and he didn't have to pay bills anymore. But Mrs Anderson, meek as she may be, still possesses a stubborn streak. She wants her younger son in therapy. It will help, she promises him. Being able to talk to someone unbiased about that night... being able to unload... it will help. Blaine has a niggling feeling that she can read his mind and see the guilt that lies, pulsing, beneath his skin.

It was no one's fault but his own that he was hurt. It was no one's fault but his own that Elliott was hurt. He should have known better.

He fights her, but there's only so much he can do as a fifteen-year-old. On a sunny Friday morning, Blaine Anderson finds himself at the local hospital. His mother steers him through the starkly white halls, her grip on his upper arm almost painful. When they reach the psychiatric wing, she leaves him there, promising to come pick him up in an hour.

Blaine is escorted further on by a nurse - a young woman, maybe twenty, although she seems old to him. She chatters on about something, but Blaine cannot bring himself to care. Something about his therapist, and how he's new - brilliant. The last thing Blaine needs is another person who has no idea what they're doing.

She leaves him, then, in front of a polished wooden door with a clinical plastic plaque-holder next to it. It's clearly a temporary measure, and Blaine remembers the nurse talking about the new doctor. He sighs tiredly and knocks once, ever polite, as he scans the laminated paper bearing this stranger's name.

It says Kurt Hummel.