Part two

It was still early in the evening, and Blaine's mother had not yet returned from work, when he fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning over and over. In his dreams, nightmare visions of the coming time mixed with unpleasant memories, and when Blaine awoke with a start in the middle of the night, cold sweat clung to his body and unshed tears were stinging his eyes. Glancing at the alarm clock on his night stand, he saw that it was only two in the morning. Far too early to get up. Blaine rolled over on his other side and attempted to fall asleep again, but every time he closed his eyes images from his recent nightmare stood sharply in his mind, so for a while he simply lay there, eyes open and trying to think of nothing, praying that sleep would eventually overtake him.

At a quarter to three Blaine gave up and decided to take a bath in the hope that it might calm him. The only calming parts of it, however, were the moments he spent with his entire body submerged underwater. There was a strange quiet down there that made him feel apart from the rest of the world – as if nothing that happened outside that tiny bathtub could possibly matter. Blaine was down there longer than he probably should have been.

Afterward he drew on sweat pants and a t-shirt and went back to bed, but his entire body was still thrumming with so much fear and nervous energy that sleep was impossible, so he resigned himself to not getting any more before school. Blaine's stomach surged. School. How was he supposed to go back there? Face everyone? He could barely even face himself.

Biting his lip in an effort to keep back the tears that still hadn't spilled – he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop once he got started – he rose and picked up his laptop from the desk before sitting back on the bed, crossing his legs and placing the laptop in front of him. Maybe he would be able to find advice online. Blaine couldn't be the first person to go through something like this.

And he wasn't, he quickly realized. Unfortunately the accounts he found were all from people very much in the same boat as him. Lost and scared and bullied. It didn't say what to do next or how to handle the situation.

At one point he began writing his own forum post asking for advice, but even writing the words I was outed yesterday made panic rise in his chest, so he quickly clicked away and went back to reading. As he browsed page after page and forum after forum, every piece of advice he found sounded stale and useless, but he read on because what else was there to do? He kept reading until it started to get light outside, and somewhere along the way he decided not to go to school, not today. Monday. He could deal with it on Monday. Or never. Never sounded good.

A knock on the door startled Blaine out of his thoughts.

'Blaine, are you up? It's past seven,' his mother called. Blaine simply sat quiet and motionless, having suddenly forgotten how to move or form words. 'Blaine?'

Blaine purposely didn't look up when he heard the door open, but he could sense his mother standing there, watching him for a moment as though deciding what to do. Finally she let out an audible breath of air and took two steps further into the room.

'Everything okay?'

'Yeah, I'm fine, Mom,' Blaine said, trying to brush her off.

'You don't look fine,' she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Blaine immediately slid off the bed and went to the desk, back turned and pretending to look for something.

'Yeah, well. Looks can be deceiving.'

Blaine shivered a little at his own words, because didn't that just describe him to a tee? All the things he worked so hard to hide from people. Blaine the performer. Except now it was all about to come crashing down, threatening to bury him.

'I'm not gonna apologize for who I am.'

'No?' The older boy's face is inches from Blaine's. 'We'll just have to make you.'

A punch to the stomach takes Blaine by surprise, and he doubles over, gasping for air.

'Blaine!' Tyler cries, and Blaine hears scuffling next to him.

'Restrain the fag,' the guy in front of Blaine says in a bored voice and more scuffling and a few strangled yells follow. Meanwhile Blaine has caught his breath, and he manages to straighten up again. He's alright. He's more shocked than in pain, to be honest.

Calm eyes are watching him, and Blaine is meant to be scared, he knows that. To cower or plead, but he refuses. He won't let himself be pushed around, so he returns his assailant's gaze as steadily as he can. More than anything he tries not be reminded of the incident in the school bathroom a few months ago, and when he can't he tries to forget about the fear and humiliation and focus on the anger instead. Because how dare they?

Blaine is better prepared for the second blow, but it still knocks the wind out of him and sends him flying into the wall behind him. He manages to remain mostly standing but has to steady himself against the wall. His eyes dart around the area, deserted except for the five of them. The two other guys are working together to restrain a struggling Tyler whose panicked eyes are visible even in the dark.

As the third blow hits Blaine hard just below the ribs, he falls to his knees, groaning in pain and struggling to breathe.

'For God's sake, stop it!' Tyler yells. 'Please, you've made your p-'

'I thought we told you to shut up,' one of the boys growls, and a moment later Tyler groans as he takes a punch of his own, and all Blaine can think is no, no, no. Tyler, stay out of this. It's not your battle.

Someone – Blaine can guess who – is crouching on the ground next to him. He instinctively begins to crawl away, but a hand tightens around his jacket, keeping him in place.

'We can do this all night,' the hand's owner says, and Blaine, still gasping for air, meets his eyes. He can't show weakness. Can't give them that satisfaction. The other boy looks vaguely amused.

'What do you want from me?' Blaine asks.

'Yeah, well. Looks can be deceiving.'

'Not this time, I think,' his mother said from right behind Blaine, almost making him jump. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Blaine squirmed away.

'I told you I'm fine, Mom. Just go to work.'

'Excuse me?'

'Fine, do whatever. Just leave me alone.' Blaine made to cross the room again, wanting to put some distance between himself and his mother, but she caught his arm. He jerked away violently, stumbling backwards several steps, and his tone was harsh when he repeated, 'Leave me alone, Mom.'

'What's wrong?'

'What do you care?' Blaine blurted before he could stop himself.

She blinked. 'You're my son.'

Blaine huffed out a laugh. 'That hasn't meant much before.'

By the look on his mother's face, Blaine might as well have slapped her, and for a tiny moment Blaine felt better, but the next moment he felt bad. He knew he wasn't being fair.

'I just...I need Dad,' Blaine said carefully. He didn't mean to offend his mother, who was very good at the practical things – at having researched his surgery options or at stomping out the ignorance and rudeness they sometimes faced – but Blaine had never felt particularly close to her, and ever since he had been little, his dad had been the one he went to for comfort.

'Well, tough,' his mother said, unfazed. 'You've got me.'

Blaine let out a long breath, feeling himself surrender. She would find out anyway. He wasn't really planning on keeping the situation a secret. He looked up at his mother, her brow creased in worry as she waited for a response, and he bit his lip. He didn't want to say it. Maybe if he didn't say it, it wouldn't be real.

'What happened?' his mother pressed. 'Did you and Kurt have a fight? Was he being inappropriate?'

Blaine shook his head. If only.

'They know,' he said finally. 'Everyone. Someone found out and he told everyone, and now the whole school knows.'

Blaine swayed on the spot, impacted by his own words. It was really real. Everyone knew his secret now, and he was back to being Blaine The Freak.

'Oh, Blaine,' his mother said, and in his devastation, Blaine had almost forgotten that she was in the room, but now she rushed forward, crossing the room in half a second. She pulled Blaine into one of her rare tight hugs, murmuring wordless comfort into his ear as he finally fell apart.

'What do we want? How about an admittance that you're a disgusting freak of nature, and you're sorry for making the rest of us look at you?'

The wise thing to do is probably to just say what the guy wants to hear. Maybe that will put an end to this night. But Blaine isn't thinking much beyond the fact that he's angry, and he will be damned if he lets the bigots win.

'How about "screw you"?'

The guy reacts quickly. Before Blaine can fully realize what he just said, hands reach out and rip Blaine's shirt open, sending buttons flying everywhere.

A few feet away Tyler is screaming, first in anger but then in pain, and Blaine tries not to imagine what the other two are doing to him as he keeps his eyes on his own tormentor.

'Let's see what little Miss Freak is hiding here, shall we?' he says as he reaches out towards Blaine's binder-covered chest, but Blaine kicks at him. His aim at the groin ends up landing nearer to the other boy's upper thigh, but it does the trick anyway, and Blaine takes advantage of the moment, scrambling to get up and away. Before he gets more than half a step, however, a hand closes around his ankle and he falls forward, only barely managing not to hit his head on the ground.

He doesn't stop fighting, but his attacker is too strong, manhandling him onto his back easily, and then he's on top of Blaine, using his weight to pin Blaine's lower body to the ground.

'Don't touch me!' Blaine yells, arms flailing and using every bit of strength in his body to fight the attack, but it's useless against the older, stronger boy who catches Blaine's wrists in one hand in uses the other to shove his upper body hard against the ground. When the back of Blaine's head crashes into the pavement, Blaine briefly thinks he hears something crack, but the next moment he sees stars, and he doesn't think much more after that.

'Okay, sweetheart,' Blaine's mother said, breaking the hug after an indeterminable amount of time had passed and Blaine had calmed somewhat. 'Come, let's get you sitting down.'

Blaine, drained and numb, let himself be led around to his bed, where he had to be prompted by his mother before he sat down on the edge of it. She crouched down in front of him, seemingly trying to get eye contact, but Blaine stared emptily ahead of him instead.

'I'm gonna go call your school, okay?'

That got Blaine looking at her. 'And say what?'

'Nothing, not yet,' she said. 'I'll just tell them you're ill and not coming today. We'll take the weekend to sort things out.'

'Oh.' He nodded, appreciating her words, but he also knew that this wasn't really something they could fix if only they thought about it hard enough.

Blaine sat quietly on the bed, half-listening to his mother make the phone call, while he himself texted Kurt to let him know that he wasn't coming to school today. He was startled out of his numbness when after finishing the conversation with the school, his mother proceeded to call her own work, claiming to be sick. She never called in sick. Not even when she was sick.

Blows are coming steadily from all directions now and from more than one person. Blaine's first thought is that maybe this means Tyler got away – Please let him have got away – but then he hears the unmistakable sound of Tyler's pained groans over his own and knows that someone is still pounding away at his friend. Because of him.

A kick to his chest distracts Blaine from the thought. He wonders how many ribs have been broken by now. A kick to his face. He hears his nose break, and he tastes blood in his mouth. A kick to his back. He tries to imagine the different shades of purple and yellow it will be after tonight.

If there is an after.

While Blaine's mother discussed the matter with her superior ('No, I definitely don't feel well enough to get anything done at home.'), Blaine's phone buzzed on the bed next to him.

'Hi Dad,' Blaine said heavily. He had almost forgotten that he had called his dad the day before, looking for comfort. Now that he had told his mother, however, he didn't know that he had it in him to say the words again.

'Hey sport,' his dad said lightly though his voice betrayed his worry. 'Everything okay? You sounded upset yesterday.'

'It's not. It's- I-' Blaine swallowed thickly. He had just stopped crying.

'Blaine, buddy,' his dad said, voice deep and calming. 'You've got your old man worried here.'

Blaine took a deep breath. 'I was outed. At school. Everyone knows now.'

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then, 'Oh god, Blaine. I'm so sorry. What happened? No wait, doesn't matter right now. Are you okay? Is your mom there with you?'

'Yeah, she's staying home from work.'

'Okay, good. Don't go to school today. Regroup. You'll get through this, I promise.'

'I don't wanna have to get through it,' Blaine said, voice breaking.

'I know, buddy. It's not fair. But you're strong, and there's nothing wrong with who you are. Remember that and know that. Then your friends will too.'

Blaine didn't feel strong at all. He had never felt less right. And as far as owning who he was, wasn't that what he had done the first time around, back in Columbus? And what had that got him? A hospital stay so long he had known the names of his nurse's grandchildren by the end of it. Blaine was too tired to argue, however, so a quiet 'Thanks, Dad,' was all he said in response.

Every punch or kick is accompanied by a single word.

Disgusting.

Freak.

Bitch.

Whore.

Worthless.

Disgrace.

Cunt.

Freak.

Worthless.

Freak.

Freak.

Freak.

Blaine isn't sure anymore if he's imagining it or not.

'Is that your dad?' his mother, who had finished her own conversation, asked, and Blaine nodded. 'Can I speak to him?'

Blaine shrugged. 'Mom wants you,' he said before handing the phone off to his mother who took it with her into the hall outside Blaine's room.

'Hi, John...' was all Blaine heard before his mother's voice faded to a distant murmur, and Blaine was alone in his room again.

He let himself fall back onto his bed with a thud. He was exhausted and his body was aching, not from the binder for once, which he had foregone putting on after the shower, but with a desperate need for sleep. He longed to rest his body and mind, to escape into quiet and nothingness.

But sleep wouldn't bring that, Blaine reminded himself. Sleep would only bring screaming and terror and memories best forgotten. Resisting the temptation to close his eyes, he forced himself to sit up instead. Better to stay awake where he might be able to control where his mind went.

Wondering vaguely when next he would be able to get a good night's sleep, he stood and wandered to his door. His mother was still on the phone, speaking quietly but clear enough that Blaine could make out some words through the gap in the door that had been left ajar.

'I know you just left yesterday, but is there any way that you could come home early?' she said. Her voice was tense and Blaine imagined she might be pacing. 'You could say it was an emergency? ... I know, but John, I'm not- You're better at this kind of thing. ... I'm not what he needs right now. ... He actually said...'

His mother's voice faded again, and Blaine guessed that she had walked into another room. He was thoughtful as he drifted around his bedroom, waiting for his mother the finish, and eventually he ended up back on his bed again. When she came back a few minutes later, looking stressed and worried, he squeezed her hand gently as he accepted the phone back from her.

After a while he almost doesn't feel it anymore. Or he feels it, perhaps, but he has resigned himself to it, like this is the way it will be forever. The way it has always been. He can't imagine anything else.

Hasn't his chest always felt like it's on fire?

Hasn't his mouth always tasted of blood?

'It's okay, Mom. I know you're trying and that this isn't your thing.'

His mother smiled carefully at Blaine's words, but sat down next to Blaine with a soft sigh.

'I know I can be absent-minded and forget things I shouldn't, and I'm not...your dad.' She put a hand on Blaine's shoulder, prompting him to look at her as she finished. 'But I love you just as much.'

Blaine nodded. He did know that, but it was still nice to hear. 'I love you too, Mom.'

She smiled, and they fell into silence – comfortable at first, but growing awkward when they both realized that neither of them knew what came next. There wasn't a manual for this kind of situation.

'Are you hungry?' Blaine's mother asked finally, and as though on cue, Blaine's stomach started rumbling. He hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. When he and Kurt had been happy and high on love and sex. Kidding themselves that things would always be so bright and sparkly.

'Yeah, starving actually.'

His mother, appearing relieved to be given something practical to do, guided Blaine downstairs to the kitchen.

'What do you want?' she asked from the fridge as Blaine slid into his usual seat at the kitchen table. 'Eggs? Toast? Pancakes?'

'Cereal's fine. I know you don't like cooking.'

'I could try. If you want.'

'It's fine, Mom.' Blaine's smiled wearily. 'I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee though. Or five.'

'Let's start with one, huh?' his mother said in a forced light tone as she went about grabbing Blaine a bowl and spoon and handing him the cereal. 'We wouldn't want you overdosing now.'

'Is that actually a thing?' Blaine said, playing along with the game of "Wrong? What could possibly be wrong?" It felt nice to pretend for a little while. 'Like, have people actually gone to the ER for a stomach pump because of too much coffee? Milk,' he added, gesturing at his dry bowl of cereal.

'Right, of course.' His mother handed him the milk. 'I doubt it,' she said returning to their frivolous caffeine talk. 'But I'd rather not see you be the first one.'

'Fine,' Blaine said, prolonging the vowel. He swallowed down three spoonfuls of cereal in quick succession. God he was hungry. How had he not realized before? 'It'd probably take more than five cups though.'

'Probably.' She joined him at the table while the coffee brewed behind them, and in a gesture that seemed out of context with the current conversation, she reached out for Blaine's free hand, caressing softly, her expression tender suddenly. Blaine stilled for a moment, but then continued to eat as though nothing had happened.

Blaine thinks he hears a voice yelling in the distance. But it can't be. This is his world – him, Tyler and three angry men. There is no one else in it, and no one is going to save him from it.

'Hey!'

He hears the voice again. Great, he's finally going crazy.

'Shit.'

That voice is a lot closer and definitely real.

'Fuck, let's go.'

Blaine feels one last kick at his legs, before he hears running feet fading into the distance, and for a moment all is quiet. Then he hears feet again, coming closer this time. He pulls his legs to his chest, curling in on himself.

'No, please. No more.'

When Blaine had finished breakfast, they went to the living room to finish their coffee (Blaine his second one).

'So what do you want to do?' his mother asked after another long and awkward silence.

'Move to Australia?' Blaine gave a small, breathy laugh.

'Do you want to not go back there? To start over again?'

'Yes. No.' Blaine shook his head. He wondered where he would even go. Dalton? Dalton had semi-regular interaction with the McKinley kids. It would only be a matter of time. On the other hand Dalton had a zero-tolerance bullying policy, which meant Blaine might be safer there – mentally as well as physically – but could he really go back there after everything that had happened?

'Oh god, Tyler,' a voice 's different from the ones before. Blaine releases a small sigh of relief. They haven't come back after all. 'Oh, my boy. Ty, look at me.' The man is growing steadily more panicked, almost yelling, 'Tyler! Oh god.'

'Dad...' Tyler's voice is small and pained.

'You're alright, you're alright, you'll be alright.'

'Blaine. Help Blaine.'

'Blaine?' His mother put down the coffee cup she had been holding as though to say I'm listening.

'I mean, it's not like the last time. I actually have friends here, and a place where I fit in. And Kurt's here. I don't want to lose all that.' Blaine put down his own coffee and sank back into the couch, blowing out a breath of air. 'But on the other hand, I may have lost most of it already.'

'Maybe it won't be so bad,' his mother said reasonably, and Blaine stared at her. She shrugged. 'Maybe the world has evolved in three years. And maybe it'll be different now that you're so far into your transition. You look a lot less androgynous than back then. People will just look stupid if they call you a girl now.'

'But they'll still know.' Blaine's voice came out more broken than he meant it to. He pulled his legs up, hugging his knees tightly as though this would help contain the emotion bubbling to the surface again now. 'I can't go back to being the freaky kid everyone stares at.'

The first tear spilled just as his mother's arm wrapped around his shoulder, and after that it was like a dam broke. He had thought he let go earlier that morning when his mother had hugged him, but this – this must be what breaking felt like. Tears spilled hot and heavy, rolling down his cheeks and staining his t-shirt.

'I can't, Mom,' Blaine said between sobs, leaning further into his mother's shoulder, and somehow his head ended up resting in her lap.

'Hey kid,' a voice – Tyler's father? – says at his ear. 'You with me?'

Blaine doesn't reply, but he winces when a hand touches his shoulder.

'It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you.' A shaking hand touches his face, which is still tucked into his chest, gently turning his head up. Blaine complies, rolls onto his back, and tries to open his eyes but finds that he can't. The man lets out an audible gasp, and he murmurs to himself, 'But someone sure did, Jesus Christ.'

'I know, sweetheart. I know,' his mother said as Blaine cried harder and harder, burrowing closer and closer. His mother seemed a little unsure what to do, but Blaine really just needed her to be there.

And then a wonderful thing happened, and she was there, wrapping one arm around him and stroking his hair gently with the other hand, and Blaine felt a small part of him relax, one cog falling into place even while the rest of him was falling apart.

There isn't an inch of Blaine's body that doesn't ache. He's vaguely aware that Tyler's father is in the process of calling an ambulance, but his head is swimming, and he can't focus on any of the words. He thinks he might throw up. God, everything hurts.

He shivers a little when a gust of cool wind blows over him. He becomes aware that his shirt is still open and that his binder has been pulled up above his chest, leaving him exposed. Oh god. A wave of humiliation rolls over him. No, that isn't it.

For the first time, he feels gross.

Blaine rolls over on his side despite the excruciating pain that shoots through his body as he does. His hands are shaking and a single tear trickles down from the corner of his eye as he pulls his shirt closed in front of him.

After a while Blaine's sobs quieted to a soft weeping, and eventually they too died out as Blaine felt himself drifting off to sleep. He was so, so exhausted. Sleep would help. Sleep would be good. Yes, sleep.

I'm sorry,' he whispers into the night just before he feels the sweet, welcoming oblivion of unconsciousness washing over him.