The Proper Way to Open the Floodgates

Today wasn't a good day. I'm just going to get right into it. I need that…

"Still screwing everything on sight, I see," was the first thing my father said to me. The words seemed to bubble over his lips like acid and plop down on the bed where they slowly crawled over my skin, licking and burning.

My entire left side trembled and shuddered.

Just the left.

That's weird. Isn't that weird?

How long until everything went to hell?

How long had he been standing there? How long had he been watching us? What had he seen?

My eyes dropped to his hands and my heart instantly felt like it had been run through a meat grinder and then forced back inside me.

Too close.

His hands were dangerous and they were too damn close.

Stupid. I had been so stupid. Cooper had escaped, the Lopez house had been demolished, Brittany was missing, and Santana was nowhere to be found. All of that meant I a huge target had been painted on the back of my head, and somehow I failed to realize that my father would be the first one to take aim at it.

I should have expected it. I definitely should have planned for it.

I should have stayed the fuck away from Kurt.

Kurt.

Kurt was pressed up against my entire left side. He had his arms twisted tightly around my chest, squeezing hard enough to make my bones feel the pressure.

I wasn't the one trembling.

My thoughts kicked into overdrive.

Kurt must have woken up before me. He must have seen. He must have lost his mind.

He had his face hidden against my neck. His breathing stuttered unevenly in panicked shock—in and out and in and out way too fast and much too faint. He was going to start hyperventilating.

I clutched at the back of his head, terrified of what had happened before I woke up. Had my father seen Kurt's face? Had he recognized who Kurt was? Was he even able to recognize Kurt?

I had to find out how bad it was.

I had to pull my shit together and I had to do it alone because that time Kurt definitely couldn't help and Bitches wasn't there to hold my hand.

I swallowed my panic as best as I could and tried to ignore the way my heart was beating hard and fast against my ribs.

"What do you want?" I asked. I tried to sound indifferent.

Did it work?

My father peered down at me and I noticed that he looked more unhinged than he usually did. He didn't answer my question. Instead, he let the silence lag and waited.

Then, slowly…

"Get up, Blaine."

Kurt's nails bit into my skin at the sound of his voice. I wished that he would stop talking.

Doesn't he hear how hard Kurt is breathing? Does he think that's strange?

He continued speaking. "Either get up and come with me or get rid of your whore."

Relief ballooned in my stomach. If he had recognized Kurt he definitely wouldn't tell me to get rid of him.

Despite the relief, we were still caught in a really bad situation. I looked up at the man looming over me.

He was still standing way too close.

I watched his hands wearily. I wondered if Kurt know what those hands could do. I wondered if he knew how dangerous those hands were to him specifically.

With the way we were arranged on the bed, Kurt was closest to him. Was that why Kurt was so blatantly terrified, or was it my father's presence along that was too much for him to handle?

I knew why I was terrified. It was definitely those hands.

All would it would take was one fleeting touch, and Elizabeth's sacrifice would be for nothing.

Don't freak out until you have a reason to.

Deal with this. Worry about everything else later.

Quickly, I gripped Kurt's arm and tried to make him let me go. He clung to me.

Any other time it would have made me smile.

Please let me go. Please.

He didn't hear me, of course.

Forcibly, I freed myself from his hold and got off of the bed as fast as I could, making sure to launch myself over Kurt so that I was standing between him and my father. I grabbed the first pair of jeans I saw (mine) and tugged them on, thankful that unlike Kurt, I was at least wearing underwear.

As I pulled them up, I glanced at Sebastian's bed and my heart sank when I found it empty. Not that I thought he would be any help whatsoever, but I might have tried to delude myself into thinking that he might have if things got bad enough.

Quickly, I grabbed hold of the blanket that was barely covering Kurt's naked hips and threw it over his head, hoping that out of sight, out of mind was a reliable phrase.

In the time it took me to get to that point, my father must have gotten impatient because the next thing I knew there was a hard hand wrapped around my bicep and I got flung like a ragdoll. I smacked hard against a nearby wall and I grit my teeth at the shocks of pain that ran up my shoulder. The son of a bitch had me pinned in a second.

My father, who was much bigger and taller than me, easily held me against the wall with both hands pressing hard against my arms. I hated being trapped, and being trapped by him made me feel like I could start clawing my own skin off, but I trapped that down, trying hard not to completely lose my shit.

"I thought you wanted to have this conversation in private," I said in a bored, dry tone that should have won me an academy award given the nine kinds of crazy I was feeling inside.

As crazy as I felt, however, my father looked worse. He looked completely out of his head. He had always been a closeted loose cannon, but losing control of Cooper had messed him up worse than I ever would have thought. His hair, which was usually styled back with crisp precision, fell over his forehead in wisps and was bunched up in different places as if he had been tugging at it for hours. There was stubble on his face and the snide grin he usually sported when he was looking at me had been traded in for a stone cold expression.

Someone had taken one of his toys away and he didn't like it.

"You're quite a difficulty to track down, son," he ground out, his voice scraping like sandpaper. "Hardly ever in your own room, nowhere to be found on the premises at all since Friday night. But you know all about what happened Friday night, don't you, Blaine?"

I shrugged as best I could. "Lots of things happened Friday night. You'll have to fill me in."

He pulled me away from the wall only to shove me back into it. "Where. Is. He?"

I looked up at him with grossly exaggerated wide-eyed wonder. "He who, Daddy?"

His grip on my arms tightened. "You always were a little shit, Blaine. The biggest little goddamn shit I ever fucking saw."

I grinned at him, knowing it would eat him alive to see it. "You're fucking crazy."

His eyes flashed and he slammed me again. That time it hurt like a bitch and I couldn't stop myself from grunting in pain.

"You had better watch that mouth of yours. One day your grandfather won't be around anymore and there will be no one to stop me from throwing you and that goddamn mouth into a D5 cell where your fag ass will rot."

I rolled my eyes. My grandfather had no love for me. He merely found me useful. That, and the two of us had a common dislike for my father. The basis for our dislike varied, however. I disliked my father because he was a prick. My grandfather disliked him because, for all my father's finesse and charm, he turned into a deranged berserker when things didn't go his way. As for my grandfather's opinion of me, I was too obstinate and unpredictable for his liking. Important to note, though, Adam Anderson was a man who had been taught that in order to maintain control of anything—whether it be a business, a family, or a top-secret government organization that specialized in the preternatural—one had to portray oneself as being strictly composed in all facets of life. He had made it his mission to uphold the façade the Anderson family was a solid, well-disciplined unit that existed in a constant state of hunky dory happy time. In other words, berserker and obstinate teenager or not, my father and I were tolerated but watched very, very carefully.

But more on my grandfather late. For now, back to my father's monologuing.

"Andres Lopez called Friday night to tell me that his home was ripped to shreds and his daughter was missing."

I snorted. Add another prick to the pile. "Because he's so concerned for her safety, I'm sure."

He continued as if I hadn't spoken, but I could tell by the vein that was slightly protruding against the skin of his neck that he wanted silence. "Not to mention her little girlfriend somehow escaped the D4 reservation."

"And?"

SLAM

"And," he got even more in my face, "you know exactly where this is going."

"Actually, I don't, because even if I did know where he was, I can't think of one single reason why I would tell you. And how would you make me tell, Dad? Hmm? Would you threaten Cooper? You seem to like holding him over my head, and it's worked for you so far, so why don't you try that. Threaten Cooper. Let's see how that well that goes now." I smirked, taunting him in the hopes that he would leave if he got angry enough. I glanced over his shoulder at Kurt's bed. Kurt was still huddled under the blanket, but he was completely still.

Please be okay. Just a little longer.

"But, hey," I continued, "don't get too upset. If Cooper doesn't work out, you can try Santana. She and I are pretty close—we've been friends for years. If you can't find her, though, I'm sure you can use Brittany S. Pierce as bait to lure her out."

Sometime in the middle of my sarcastic rant, reality really began to sink in. Seven years. My father had held Cooper over my head for seven years. He had manipulated and controlled me for seven years. That was damn near half my life.

Not anymore.

Hell, not ever again. He was never getting Cooper again. He couldn't get Santana, he couldn't get Brittany, and I would kill him if he ever even so much as glanced at Kurt.

He had nothing else on me. He had no one that he could use to control me anymore.

That last thought broke my control. I felt like I could have destroyed the entire world and not given a damn. I felt hysterical and shouting in the bastard's face seemed like the only thing worth living for.

"But why stop there? You can always use my piece of shit roommate to blackmail me! Just make sure you keep him when you're done because he's always been a massive pain in the ass. Or maybe Headmaster Bennett—I've always had a special place in hell for him—he would be perfect blackmail material! Or—even better—use that douche bag Sebastian Smythe, or maybe the mailman for our New York apartment, or some random whore off the street, a fucking pair of pants, or, hey! I got it! One of the guys that I fucked for a few hours and then threw away like nothing! There's still plenty of them limping around the fucking school! Why not them, Dad? I'm sure they'll work!"

I was almost screaming at that point, and I had taken it way too far. It was one thing to poke the bear. It was another thing to poke the bear, dump fish slime on yourself, and then put your head in its mouth.

I might have lost it just a little bit.

It was exhilarating, though, and I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. I wanted to rub his nose in it until there was nothing left but a gaping hole on his face.

I opened my mouth for more when the door opened.

I cut off midsentence by it, and my father and I both turned our heads to find Sebastian standing in the doorway, looking at us with a what the fuck written all over his face.

"Umm…" Sebastian said, and my father pushed me away from him with a violent shove.

He didn't say anything when he left the room, which should have been worrying, and would have been if my mind hadn't instantly jumped back to Kurt.

I didn't dare move though, not until at least a minute went by without him coming back. It was probably the only intelligent thing I did that day.

"What the fuck was that?" Sebastian asked after a stretch of silence that had been filled with confused staring.

I ignored him and rushed over to Kurt.

"Who was that guy? Why the hell were you screaming your head off?"

When I pulled the blankets back, Kurt was curled in on himself with both hands clamed tight over his mouth and his eyes open wide.

"Holy shit! What the fuck did you do to him, Anderson?"

I easily ignored Sebastian; the disturbing sight instantly cleared my mind of everything except for one person.

"Kurt," I said turning him towards me. His breathing was still way too fast. "Kurt, baby, it's okay. It's okay, he's gone now. Kurt." Nothing. "Damn it." I whipped around to face Sebastian. "Don't just fucking stand there! Get some water or something!"

Sebastian wasn't my favorite person, but he left and came back in record time. I would have kissed him if I didn't think I would throw up right after. I held out my hand for the glass of water he held in his.

He put two pills in the canter of my palm.

"What the hell is this?"

"Valium. I got it from Jeff's brother."

"From Cam? Are you out of your fucking mind? I'm not giving him that!"

"He swears it's clean, and it's the only thing we've got."

"Jesus. Kurt, I need you to take these pills okay? They'll help you calm down." I pulled Kurt into a sitting position so that his back was against my chest and pressed the pills to his lips. His lips parted and he did the rest of the work himself.

"Fuck!" Sebastian swore, his eyes on Kurt's hips, which were barely covered at that point. "Fuck, is he naked?"

I snatched the glass from Sebastian's hand and tipped it against Kurt's lips. I tried to hold it steady, but my hands shook. "Why?" I asked Sebastian as a means of distraction. "Are you worried about damaging your virgin eyes?"

"Well, no, but…" Sebastian's eyes traveled appreciatively down Kurt's chest.

"Do you fucking mind, Smythe?" I snarled and reached down to pull the blanket up higher.

"Not in the slightest. Never knew he looked like that underneath all those clothes. No wonder why you've kept him around for so long."

"He's not my fucking pet," I snapped. "I don't 'keep him around' and I sure as shit don't spend time with him because of how he looks naked."

"So… what, you meet Kurt and that's it? No more fucking around with whoever you want? Just one guy for the rest of your life?"

"I don't need to fuck anyone else."

Sebastian scoffed. "Please. When did you turn into such a Lifetime special anyway?"

"Oh my god, Sebastian, shut up. Just shut the fuck up. You are so annoying."

He didn't of course.

"You really don't miss fucking other guys? Not even a little bit?"

"For fucking—No. Kurt means more than everything. Those other guys meant less than nothing. Why the hell would I want to go back to that? It's no contest."

Sebastian, of course, looked at me like I had just agreed to have sex with him. "Seriously?" he asked, sounding genuinely intrigued.

"Seriously," I grit out. Genuine or not, Sebastian was annoying and I had no desire to spend the morning discussing my feelings with him.

I ran a hand through Kurt's hair. He seemed to be calming down a little. Whether that was because of the drugs or my fathers continued absence, I didn't know.

Sebastian let out an annoyed huff. "Well, I don't get it. Monogamy is boring."

I scowled at the weasel-faced idiot. "Do I look bored to you?"

"You look worried."

I snorted. "Yeah, well."

Sebastian moved to sit on the edge of the bed. I eyed him.

"Shouldn't you be leaving now?"

"Why? Do you want me to?"

"Yes, actually."

"My room, not yours."

I grit my teeth.

"So was that guy trying to rape you or something?"

"WHAT?" I shouted. "Fuck no!" I shuddered, trying to shake off the feeling of wrong.

Sebastian shrugged, unfazed by my outburst. "He had you pushed up against a wall half naked with your pants undone. Hummel is all naked and doesn't strike me as the threesome type. Especially not with some forty year old."

"That was my father, you shithead."

"Is he a perv or something?"

"Are you?"

"Not in some creepy incest way."

"Ugh. Why are we talking about this? Why are you even talking at all? I don't care if this is your room. Just fuck off, Sebastian."

"Hey, don't get all high and mighty with me. You're the one who was half naked with your pants undone in front of your damn father."

"Not by choice, asshole!"

Sebastian looked like he was going to say something, but Kurt turned suddenly in my arms and Sebastian kept quiet.

"Kurt?" I asked, my hands already in his hair, pushing it back.

Unsurprisingly, Kurt said nothing. He shook his head and held me tighter.

I wished he would look at me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered because it hit me again that it was all my fault. Kurt had been right to try to stay away from me when he figured out who I was. Not for the first time since I discovered how much of a mess everything turned out to be, I wished that there was a way to go back in time and tell myself to leave him alone. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't think sorry is what he wants to hear," Sebastian said softly, his voice gentle in a way I had never heard it before.

"How the fuck would you know?" I damn near yelled.

Again, Sebastian wasn't fazed in the slightest. "I don't know. I don't even know what's going on exactly, but look at him."

I did.

Sebastian went on. "He's holding you like you're more important than breathing in and out. Obviously he doesn't think you need to apologize for anything."

I hoped he was right. Then again, I figured that if Sebastian was capable of saying something that made sense, anything was possible.