JUST FYI: Whenever there is a / / / / / / / / / / / / it means it is the beginning of a 'flashback scene', and there will be a \\\\\\\\\\\\\ at the end of the flashback..
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, musicals, songs or anything mentioned here, Glee is not mine!
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Lying on Kurt's couch, watching Bambi, Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt, who rested his soft, warm hand on it, gently caressing the skin there. Blaine smiled into his boyfriend's sweet smelling hair, before-
"Blaine? What's this?" Kurt's voice was tinged with worry and confusion.
"Hm?" he lifted his chin off Kurt's head and rested on his shoulder, to get a better look at whatever it was Kurt was fussing over.
"This..." Kurt rubbed his thumb in circles over the small patch of skin, where a thin scar, almost invisible and slightly raised, disfigured his arm. Blaine's heart stopped for a second, before he brushed it off as something he received "falling off his bike."
Kurt nodded slowly, and went back to trailing his fingers over his forearm, before stopping again. "You must have fallen off your bike a lot," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Blaine felt a thin sheen of sweat developing over his brow.
"Y-yeah, I wasn't very good."
"How many times did you fall? They're all so simi-Blaine?" Kurt twisted around, a look of realisation and shock etched into his porcelain face, as he watched tears leak into Blaine's eyes. Softly, he brought the arm to his lips, and gently kissed each raised scar. When he looked up again, he watched helplessly as tears carved shimmering trails down Blaine's cheeks. "Blaine," his voice barely above a whisper, he raised himself up on his arms and softly kissed his boyfriend's wet lips, whispering that he was so, so sorry in the breaths between the kisses.
Blaine pulled his lips away slightly, their noses remaining together, rubbing softly together. "I...I am, too," his words caught in his throat as he swallowed the tears. Trying to concentrate on the warmth of Kurt's body lying next to his, he squeezed his eyes shut tight as all the suppressed memories came rushing to the surface, almost drowning him.
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"He's a freak!"
"He's your son!" Blaine slammed his bedroom door shut and tried to drown out the shouting coming from downstairs, turning on his speakers and blasting his new Katy Perry album, which stopped helping when the track he once found humorous, 'Ur So Gay', started to play. Frantically punching the buttons on his iPod, desperate to get away from those words, he landed on the track 'I Kissed a Girl', at which stage he just tore the plug from his wall.
His insides were burning, his heart racing, and his head reeling from the stupidity of what he had done. Clutching at the bed sheets and not even trying to hold back his tears, Blaine sank to the carpeted floor, his trembling hands covering the tear filled eyes. It wasn't who he was that upset him-he was fine with it, loved it, and didn't really care-it was the fact that his parents, his own family, cared. And they cared a great deal. Especially his dad, the man who had always been there for Blaine to fall back on, the man who he looked up to, who taught him to ride his bike, who drove him to school on that first day, had suddenly turned against him, for being something as simple as gay.
Although, Blaine knew, it wasn't that simple. He didn't live in that kind of world, where it didn't matter who you liked, or didn't like. He lived in a world where being gay was frowned upon, where it was something that would cause your parents, your schoolmates and even your friends against you.
His father was religious-Blaine knew that, but he thought that, at least, he could accept his own son. Even though he had heard him talking about other gays they saw around Westerville, and he didn't speak particularly well of them. Blaine thought that he could, at least, make an exception for his own child. Obviously, he had thought wrong.
"Where did we go wrong with him?" he heard his father ask, for he no longer felt he could call him 'Dad'. "Did we let him spend too much time around girls, or choosing his own clothes at the store? What did we do wrong?" Each word felt like a piece of glass being buried deep into Blaine's heart, and the stabbing pain in his chest drew him back into the present.
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As he resurfaced, Blaine felt himself become momentarily dizzy, confused, before he remembered where he was, that all that had passed, all the pain, the heartbreak of discovering that his safety net wasn't there anymore, the Sadie Hawkins dance. If only my father could see me now, he thought, as Kurt burrowed his head against his chest, and fitted his body perfectly against Blaine's.
How far he'd come.
"Blaine?"
"Yeah?" He could almost hear Kurt's brain working to formulate the right words, to put them together in just the right way.
"What...happened?" Kurt waited for him, because he seemed to know how Blaine felt, how hard it was, although Blaine knew that no scars adorned his arms.
"You...met my...father, that one time, remember?" Kurt had only met Blaine's father once, during which his father spoke through gritted teeth and rigid lips, eyes never lifting from his newspaper, while Blaine hurried Kurt out of there as soon as he possibly could. "It was before I moved to Dalton, when I came out. And that's why I moved to Dalton-because of everything that happened at my old school. There was this one kid...the kind of guy you would think would understand. Leader of the glee club, really into the arts and all that. He was one of the guys who...after I asked my friend to the Sadie Hawkins dance...I transferred a week later, mainly because of my mom. My father had just started his car project with me, not his final attempt to turn me straight, he was another thing.
"It started to feel as though everything he did was to try and...Straighten me out, I guess." He chuckled sadly, before continuing. "He would text me when I was at Dalton, whenever a friend of his was bringing his daughter over for dinner and would I please try to get along with her. I never went to those dinners...but it was school that...started it. And then I just...I just..."
Blaine felt himself dissolve, as Kurt sat up and held his head against his chest, and let his tears flow freely, as everything rushed back into Blaine's mind again.
"I'm sorry, Blaine. I am, I'm so sorry, it's ok, it's ok, that's all gone now, Blaine, we can start over now, let the scars from our past fade..." Kurt, not knowing what to say to comfort his quietly crying boyfriend, resorted to simply stroking his hair, running his hands and fingers through the soft, silky curls, and whispering to Blaine that it was fine, he was there for him, the past was gone, that together, they could make it better...
Blaine knew that Kurt would be crying, and he felt horribly guilty. He knew that he shouldn't, but, buried deep within him, the shreds of guilt he had felt, for making his parents argue and fight, for disappointing his father, for being gay, something he now knew he was stupid for feeling guilty for, those scraps were still littered inside of him, like those tiny fragments of paper left at the base of a rubbish bin, stirred by a wind and brought to the top.
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It had grown progressively worse, after Blaine first came out, and the people at his old school had started to figure it out. He supposed they must've been able to sense it, or something, because the only person he had told at school was Coby, his best friend and the only other gay kid there. His shoulders and back ached every day from being slammed into the hard, metal lockers. Scattered across the floor, his books and papers would be strewn around the school, his bag stolen, and, on one occasion, he had been egged. His good grades dropped, and he could still hear the shouting in his ears, his father yelling at him about the grades, about his lack of focus. Blaine could still recall attempting to explain to his father that it was not his fault, that he was only losing focus because, every lunchtime, he was being slammed into walls, tossed into bins, and having his things stolen. Everything had begun to spiral out of control.
"It isn't my fault, Dad! I can't concentrate anymore because I am living in a state of constant fear, of being pushed into the lockers, of being beaten up, of being thrown into rubbish bins!" the desperation would rise in his voice, as he tried to make his father realise that it wasn't his fault, that he couldn't stop it. "They just...don't like who I am, or something, because I'm into the arts, or whatever, because I'm..."
"And whose fault is THAT?" his father had roared, eyes ablaze. "What happened, Blaine, where did we go wrong, what caused this? We raised you the right way, put you in a good school, made sure you made friends with the right people...this isn't our fault boy, it isn't out fault that you're...that you're..." the eyes bulged, and the vein in his temple strained out against the skin, in protest to the explosions taking place within the man's head.
"Why are you yelling at me?" Blaine looked up at his father, whose eyes darkened, as he spat out, at the same time...
"That you're a FREAK?" The words fell upon Blaine's ears like blows from a sword-he felt as though that would have been a kinder alternative. Blaine heard his mother gasp and scold his father, before he kicked aside his chair and raced upstairs, slamming his bedroom door shut, and collapsing onto his bed, wondering if everything was really his fault. The next hour was a blur, of noticing the silvery glint of the razor he had never used, of a stabbing pain and of red, swirling down the plughole, taking all the happiness remaining with it. The hot tears which drowned within the red pool, the shuddering gasps of pain which were masked by the loud music, of some band whose name he hadn't bothered to look at, and whose songs made no sense, had no purpose, other than to hide it all. He collapsed onto his bed, and closed his eyes, everything around him spinning out of control, pulling him into a dark, bottomless abyss which cut out almost all the light in the world.
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But Blaine now knew that it wasn't his fault, and he had forgotten how he'd talked himself into thinking it was. He shifted his position a little, so that he had his arms wrapped around Kurt, as he whispered how sorry he was into his ear.
"Don't be," Kurt murmured back, "It isn't your fault. None of it."
Blaine squeezed his eyes shut to hold the tears, because Kurt would never know exactly how much those words meant to him.