Chapter Ten

Blaine paced back and forth. What are they still talking about? Before Kurt had begun to tell his story, both him and Finn had stared at Blaine expectantly. He took the hint after a minute or so and slipped quietly out of the room. They had been in there for over an hour. 

Blaine had heard crying and laughing and screaming and banging, but now he just heard silence. He was starting to get a bit worried too. Blaine slowly and silently twisted the door open. He saw Finn and Kurt, holding on to each other like they would never let go, and his heart nearly melted.

“Never leave me again.” He heard Finn say quietly.

“Never.” Kurt responded. Blaine left before either could notice his presence. 

Now, he just sat in the kitchen, bouncing his tennis ball off of the wall and thinking. How had Kurt never opened up to him before? How could Finn, Finn of all people, just stumble in and immediately get the story of all that was Kurt. The reasonable part of his brain spoke up, he's his brother, you idiot. Just be happy for him. Blaine sighed and bounced the ball off the wall. This was ridiculous. 

He jumped slightly when Finn appeared in the doorway. 

“Blaine? We need to talk, bro.” Bro. He spoke like a moron, how did Kurt even like- gosh he was losing his mind, Finn was a nice guy.  

“Yeah, sure. Sit down.” Blaine nodded to the seat across from him. 

“Kurt wasnt a hooker.” Finn stared right into his eyes.

“Um, I don't know what he told you, but-”

“He thinks he was a hooker, but it's about a million times worse than that.” Finn's expression looked odd when it was this serious. “He's a victim of human trafficking.”

“What?” Blaine asked in disbelief. There was no way.

“He was kidnapped by his ‘boyfriend' and brought into a sort of- slave service.” Finn's face twisted up in disgust. “Once they were done with him, they ditched him with Martin.”

“He- he was kidnapped?” Blaine was sickened by the realization that Kurt didnt choose a single element of his life prostitution. He thought back to those horrible things he had said to Kurt when they first arrived at the safe house, ‘you couldn't even make it in the real world without selling yourself.' Kurt didn't want that life and Blaine felt the worst type of guilt crawling all over his skin. “How old?”

“Eighteen. I knew, I knew from the day he left that something was wrong. It's exactly why I became a cop. To find him.” Finn ran a hand through his hair and smiled manically before the seriousness crept back. “He told me not to tell you. I convinced him that was ridiculous, but why would he say that, Blaine?”

“I- just didn't know anything about his past and I said some…unfair things about his life.” 

Finn's face darkened and a level of seriousness Blaine didn't even know Finn possessed captured his features.

“What kind of things, Blaine?”

“It doesn't matter now, Finn, and you know that.”

Finn looked slightly abashed. “Look man, I havent been able to protect my brother in years. I'm sorry if it's making you uncomfortable or whatever, but you have to understand-”

“Finn, give the man a rest, he's had a long day. We all have.” Kurt said after walking to the kitchen and leaning against the door frame. He looked tired, Blaine noted, but he was also smiling. Just the tiniest hint of a smile, but a smile all the same.

“Uh, yeah. No problem Kurt.” Finn stepped away from Blaine, but shot him one last parting look that screamed, “This isn't over.”

“Listen, K, I should get out of here.” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at Kurt before continuing. “I have to go file…the report.”

A chill frosted over the room, but it quickly passed when Kurt straightened up and walked to Finn. “Well, brother, I hope to see you soon.” He pulled Finn into a quick hug (Blaine only felt a slight urge to injure him.)

“Of course.” With that, Finn turned and left the room, leaving Blaine and Kurt. Just looking at each other. Alone. 

“So…”

“Kurt you have to understand that I didn't know.” As soon as he heard the door close, Blaine was already advancing towards. “Even then, I never meant-”

“You did. It made sense. It makes sense.” Kurt had had just about enough of this day, his resolve crumbling as he sunk down into one of the kitchen chairs.

“No. You are not a…a whore, Kurt.” They both flinched at the word. “You were a kid. You were taken, none of this is your fault.” 

“Except it is isn't it?” Kurt's eyes were cold and his posture was rigid. “I could have left after they put me with Kenny…I could have done something.” 

“I've been working cases like these my whole career. It's perfectly understandable for you to feel like you couldnt have escaped. In fact-”

“Stop trying to understand me.” Kurt pushed up from the table and the chair clattered to the floor. “Stop acting like you know. You don't. You can't.”

“I do!” Blaine circled to Kurt's side of the table. They stood toe to toe, neither backing down. “Just because I havent lived your life doesnt mean I havent lived mine!” They were both yelling now, there was no way Puck and Rachel hadnt heard.

“Oh yeah, because your life of prep school uniforms and trust funds was so fucking hard to deal with,” Kurt spat.

Blaine inched just a fraction closer, his eyes boiling with just barely contained rage. “I've been the one on the ground. I've been kicked and bloodied. I've spent my whole fucking life thinking the death of my best friend was my fault.”

Kurt gasped lightly. The action brought Blaine's attention to Kurt's lips and, in turn, Kurt's to his. The few centimeters of space between them contained so much tension it was hard to think. Kurt's lashes fluttered closed and just then-

“Oh, shit.” Puck stumbled into the kitchen and froze where he stood. “I was just leaving! Sorry!” Kurt jumped away.

“No, it's fine, I was just about to go to bed. It's been a long day. Um, goodnight.” Kurt turned and scurried out of the room. Puck's eyes bored holes into the top of Blaine's head.

“I'm not gonna say anything, dude. Just make sure you know what youre doing.” 

Blaine hung his head in silence. If there was anything he was absolutely certain of, it was that he had absolutely no clue what he was doing.