Author's Note:

TRIGGER WARNING – There are several upcoming chapters that contain violence, heavy swearing, and sexually explicit scenes.

This fic is rated 'M' for this reason. Viewer discretion is strongly advised.

Thank you,

-RH

Chapter 14

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Blaine shrugged his duffle bag up higher on his shoulder and clenched his fists. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, held it momentarily, and then released it. He then cautiously opened the door into the locker room and soundlessly snuck inside, expecting to be instantly blasted with a torrent of homophobic slurs and violent actions.

"Hey dude, what's up?" Blaine nearly jumped out of his skin as Puck spoke up from somewhere behind him, giving him a swift smack on his shoulder on his way around him, heading towards his gym locker.

Well he obviously doesn't know yet.

Blaine ducked his head down, inadvertently ignoring the greeting and continued towards his own locker, located on the far end of the room near the showers.

He had only a few steps to go before another voice echoed through the locker room.

"Hey, Anderson!"

Oh god. Here it comes.

Blaine tensed up but did not turn around.

"Oi, Blaine! Throw me my jersey, dude!"

Or not.

Blaine grabbed the red football jersey from on the bench and turned around to throw it to Mike.

'Thanks man… Dude! What happened to your face?"

Uh oh. Forgot about that.

"I tripped over my dog and fell down the stairs." Blaine invented with a forced laugh. "Dumb hey?"

Mike chuckled. "I didn't even know you had a dog."

That's because I don't.

Blaine turned back around, hoping to get out of the spotlight. He'd noticed several more sets of eyes turn and look at him after Mike had asked him about the bruises face.

Several minutes passed with no disruption before Blaine suddenly felt a large hand pressing on his shoulder, forcefully turning him around.

"Dude! What the fuck?"

Blaine cowered away from the voice slightly but when he was forced to turn around, Finn Hudson was looking down at him.

"Blaine, I'm talking to you!"

"F-Finn… I…" Blaine stuttered, his brain trying to come up with something fast.

"Whoa dude!" Finn exclaimed. "You get into a fight or something?"

Blaine's heart skipped a beat.

What?

"D-dog… tripped me. I fell."

"Oh." Finn replied, obviously dropping the issue. He turned towards his locker and began to change. "Why the hell didn't you come play video games with us last night at Matt's? We were one guy short for Call of Duty."

What the…? Do they really not know yet? Or are they all just fucking with me?

"Sorry Finn." Blaine offered. "I had homework."

Blaine looked around the room for the first time and realized that no one was looking at him. Either no one knew or no one cared. He briefly searched for Karofsky and Azimio and realized that they'd not yet showed up to prepare for practice.

Blaine breathed a sigh of relief and gingerly pulled off his shirt. His ribs were still aching.

Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought.

He'd just struggled through pulling on the long sleeve Under Armor shirt he wore under his football gear when he heard a voice that made his blood run cold.

"Jesus fuck, guys! Who let the girl in here?"

Azimio had arrived.

Blaine released an audible sigh and closed his eyes.

Here we go.

There were several frantic seconds where guys were desperately grabbing towels to cover themselves and a few awkward yelps before Puck finally looked around the room, not even bothering to cover himself up.

"Girl? What girl? What are you talking about Z?"

"Didn't you guys hear the news? There's a new girl on the team." This time it was Karofsky's voice echoing through the lockers.

Blaine still refused to turn around. He gripped the locker in front of him with white knuckles and kept his head low. This wasn't going to be pretty.

Many confused glances were noticeable around the room. It was apparent that none of the other football players had been informed.

Karofsky walked over to where Blaine was standing.

"Anderson?" He questioned. "Do you know of any girls on the team?"

It's now or never.

Blaine turned around slowly and came face to face with a locker room full of guys looking at him in bewilderment. It was as though they were waiting for him to fill in the blanks and explain what it was that Karofsky was so obviously enjoying. The thug had a huge grin spread across his face and was rubbing his right fist with his left hand, as though it was just itching to throw another punch.

Blaine gulped and looked over at Finn, who may have looked the most confused at all. Puck was still standing in the middle of the room, now up on top of the bench. Still uncovered.

Blaine returned his look to Karofsky, who was now standing immediately behind him, looking down at him with hungry eyes like Blaine was easy prey.

Blaine gathered his courage, remembering his conversation with Kurt only minutes before and shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about Karofsky."

The smile on Karofsky's face melted away and was replaced with a menacing scowl.

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about… homo."

Several gasps throughout the locker room did not go unheard.

Blaine turned to look away from the much bigger teen but was vigorously grabbed by the shoulders and slammed back into the edge of his locker. The hinge immediately dug its way into Blaine's spine, causing him to release a soft gasp.

"No. You do not get to turn away from me. You get to tell the guys what you just told me and Z."

Blaine winced as the pain in his ribs surged to new levels with the increased force of Karofsky's hands on him. The tiny whimper that escaped his lips made the masochistic grin on Karofsky's face grow wider.

"Tell them now."

Blaine narrowed his eyes and looked Karofsky directly in the face before whispering through gritted teeth. "I don't have to do anything, you asshole."

The finger grips on each of Blaine's shoulders tightened, and Blaine had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from crying out.

"Dude?" Puck had jumped down from the bench and stepped towards his two teammates. "What the fuck is going on with you two?"

Karofsky didn't avert his stare from the shorter boy and Blaine refused to look away either. They were locked in a battle of wills; neither boy inclined to break the stalemate.

Puck turned and looked at Finn, who was still standing several feet from Blaine, looking as dumbfounded as ever. He shrugged his shoulders and gave Puck an, 'I have no idea' look before returning his gaze to the confrontation.

Azimio made his way over towards the two boys then turned to face the remainder of the football team before announcing, "We caught Anderson in the bathroom making out with the fag Hummel."

Blaine's stomach clenched as the room permeated with shocked gasps and quiet mumbling.

Oh god.

Finn's eyes widened, "B-Blaine… what the fuck?"

The look of horror on the quarterback's face broke Blaine's heart into a million pieces. He struggled to keep calm, but his breaths were shallow and rapid. His knees suddenly felt very weak and he was almost thankful for a miniscule second that Karofsky still had a strong hold on him, or he may have slid down to the floor.

"I-I…" Blaine stuttered. He had no words.

As he quickly glanced around the room, he noticed several guys had shocked looks, many appeared horrified, but what hurt the most was that Puck had grabbed several pieces of random clothing and had haphazardly covered himself up. Puck had never before been shy about covering himself up in the boy's change room before.

"That's right Puck, cover that shit. Fag boy here has probably been creepin' at your junk this whole time." Azimio chimed with a disgusted snort.

Blaine released a painful sigh. He still didn't know what to say.

"Yeah, and he probably loved having showers here after practice too. Didn't you guys notice that he's always the last one to have his shower? That's cuz he's always watchin' everyone else in there." This time it was Karofsky who spit the angry accusations towards the group of teens.

"Oh my god." Finn said, a look of betrayal present. "That's totally true."

"Finn?" Blaine exclaimed, "I…" but he was interrupted as Karofsky slammed him even harder into the locker.

"Shut up faggot." Karofsky threatened, his face only inches away from Blaine's ear. "Or I'm going to kill you."

This time Blaine's knees did give out and he started to feel nauseous. Karofsky maintained his ironclad grip on his shoulders, which Blaine was certain was going to add to his growing portfolio of bruises.

"Its true then?" Mike asked warily. "You're… gay?"

Blaine hesitantly looked around the room at all of the anxious faces.

Courage. Courage. Courage.

"Yes."

It was all Blaine could possibly do, not to throw up all over Karofsky. That certainly wouldn't help his predicament.

"B-but I didn't…" Another loud chorus of loud gasps, sneers and mumbles interrupted him again, and with each additional slur, Blaine felt a stabbing pain cut through his chest like a hot knife.

Instantly ashamed, he looked away and was not the least bit surprised when he felt Karofsky loosen his grip and he tumbled to the floor in a heap.

"Blaine. I can't believe you lied to us."

"That's disgusting."

"Do you think he saw my junk?"

"Homo."

"Fuck, that's gross."

"I can't believe he's a fag."

"Oh my god, I think he smacked my ass after that touchdown last week!"

"I didn't know gays could play football."

"What if he tried to attack one of us in the shower or something?"

"Fag."

"He shouldn't be allowed in here."

"With Hummel? Really?"

"Do you think he will get kicked off the team now?"

"We can't have a gay guy on the team."

Each of the sneers and jeers swam around in Blaine's mind like fish in the ocean. He stayed propped up against his locker, still sitting on the floor, and watched in horror as each of his 'teammates' came to their own conclusions, none of them bothering to even look in his direction.

It felt as though his world had just crumbled to the ground around him.

"I can't believe… you… and Kurt…" Finn stumbled, incredulously.

Blaine glanced up from his position on the floor, "Finn, it's not like that… I…"

"I can't believe you're a fag too."

The word coming out of Finn's mouth stung more than any of the physical violence inflicted by Azimio or Karofsky early that day.

This was Finn. He was supposed to be his friend.

Blaine struggled to keep his composure. He had to make a conscious effort to get to his feet, his ribs now protesting like they'd never done before.

"Finn, please… let me explain…" He said walking towards the taller teen with his hands outstretched in front of him in surrender.

"No!" Finn shouted, backing away. "Don't fucking touch me."

Blaine's eyes widened in horror and he felt them burning as tears welled up in their corners. He turned away from the quarterback and sat down on the bench next to his locker, unsure if his feet would be able to hold him up much longer.

Blaine was so far gone now that he didn't hear Puck step past Finn and give him a look of disdain as he whispered, "Whoa dude, that was pretty harsh."

Blaine remained on the bench, devastated and physically numb in disbelief. Nothing seemed real to him. It felt like he was watching a movie or something, not that this was actually happening to him for real. He couldn't compare this heartbreak to what it was like in his old school. He'd been taunted, but this was beyond taunting.

This was emotional carnage.

The remainder of the team still fumbled around, slowly turning back to their lockers and getting dressed for practice before Coach Beiste stormed into the change room.

"What the hell is going on in here?" She screamed. "Practice started seven minutes ago! Get out there now! You'll all run twenty laps before we get started! Go! Get out there now!"

A few of the boys that were already close to being dressed grabbed their shoulder pads and escaped quickly. Several – including Blaine, were hardly started.

"What have you guys been doing in here? Having a damn tea party? Let's go!"

Blaine still remained on the bench, unmoving.

"Anderson! Did you hear me? I already told you if you miss one more practice you're off the team. You get your ass out there in 3 minutes or you're finished here."

Blaine looked up slowly and nodded, reaching robotically for his football pants.

Kurt was right. I am going to get killed today.

Blaine hadn't run three of the required twenty laps before the pain in his ribs was excruciating and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Normally he would run twenty laps without breaking a sweat. He was by far the fittest guy on the team and usually finished well in front of the group. Today however, he was laboring along, being lapped several times by the other football players. He found that by holding his left arm tight around his abdomen while running, the pain in his ribs subsided, but only slightly.

As he finished the third lap, a new wave of nausea overtook him and he barely had time to remove his helmet before was forced to quickly run to the nearest garbage can and spill the contents of his stomach.

He was still retching into the bin when Coach Beiste approached him and for the first time looked at the weakened and pale boy.

"Anderson, you look like shit, son."

Blaine wiped his face with the back of his hand and was attempting to put his helmet back on before a second wave hit him and he had to lean back into the bin. The dry heaves ripped through his chest and abdomen, increasing his level of pain tenfold. Black spots filled his vision and he felt himself wavering before two strong hands guided him to the ground in a sitting position.

"Easy there, Blaine. Take a seat." The coach cooed as she lowered him to the ground. "Did you get a bad batch of chicken for lunch or something?"

Several football players slowed up their running and were watching the scene play out; including Karofsky and Azimio, who hollered something about Blaine being 'too girly to run a few laps'.

Coach Beiste yelled back strict orders for everyone else to continue running laps before looking back at Blaine. "Do you need a few more minutes? You still look kinda green."

Blaine nodded. The black spots had vanished, but he couldn't promise himself that he'd be able to stand on his own accord just yet.

"Okay. Why don't you go clean yourself up? We're going to run some plays after this. I have a new formation I want to try."

The coach left Blaine sitting on the ground and walked back over to the running track, screaming at her team to pick up the pace.

Blaine took several more minutes to compose himself before he unsteadily made it back to his feet and stumbled into the locker room. He traipsed over to the sink and ran his hands under the cool water before throwing several handfuls over his face.

He glanced up into the mirror and frowned. He really did look like shit.

Look what they've done to you. You are a coward.

He blinked several times and tossed three more handfuls of water over his face before looking back up into the mirror, subconsciously hoping to see a marked improvement.

The same battered and bruised face looked back at him with sad, devastated hazel eyes.

What happened to 'courage'?

Leaning heavily on the sink, he slurped up a handful of cold water, which tore down his now raw throat and hit his empty stomach like a bucket full of nails.

You're better than this. You can't let them beat you.

A second slurp of water.

Stand up and show them that you are the same guy.

Another splash of cold water over his swollen face.

Do it for Jake.

Blaine looked up into the mirror with renewed determination.

Do it for Kurt.

He slipped his helmet back on and trudged back out to the field. The remainder of the boys had finished running their laps and were kneeling by the bench with their water bottles. Coach Beiste was standing in front of them, demonstrating what appeared to be her new formation on a whiteboard. A number of tiny 'X's' and 'O's' dotted the white space, which was filled with arrows pointing in all directions.

Blaine adjusted his helmet, tightened the straps and walked over to join the group. He stood in the back; so not to draw any more unwanted attention but could hardly see over the much taller boys in front of him to get a look at the whiteboard and learn the new play.

After several more minutes of discussion, Coach Beiste blew her whistle and instructed everyone to take their places on the field to practice the new formation.

Blaine took his place to the right of Sam, a new transfer student and the second-string quarterback.

He took a deep breath while waiting for the play to commence and looked across from him at the opposing linemen. Karofsky, Azimio, Puck and several others all seemed to be glaring back at him.

Blaine gulped and looked back to the ground in front of him before the whistle blew and he took off like a shot, crisscrossing through several players before finding himself wide open.

Sam tossed a beautiful spiral, which soared through the air and right into his waiting hands. Blaine looked upfield and saw his opening, ignoring the burning on his right side and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The moment he'd made it across the goal line, he dropped the ball and looked back at his teammates who stood back watching him, dumbfounded.

The blonde haired quarterback approached him first and gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder, "Nice catch Blaine."

Blaine noticed several other players on his side give him approving nods, but nothing else was said.

What was really apparent though, was the anger emitting from Karofsky and Azimio. They glared continually at Blaine as he walked back to his end of the football field.

"Great job Blaine! Well done. Let's run it again." Coach Beiste blew her whistle.

The two opposing teams lined up a second time and ran the play again. This time, Blaine pivoted to the left and split between Puck and Azimio and looked back behind him to Sam, who was mid throw. The ball was coming a little further than Blaine had accounted for, so he jumped up and stretched his arms out wide and collected the ball, bringing it tight into his chest.

His feet had barely made contact with the ground before a freight train connected with him from the right side and sent him soaring through the air.

A freight train named David Karofsky.

Blaine landed on his back and the air was forced out of his lungs instantaneously with a loud 'ooommpphh'. The ball fell from his outstretched hands and rolled away, quickly covered up by a member of the opposing team.

Beiste blew her whistle again. "Nice tackle Karofsky! Next time don't kill him though…"

Blaine lay on the grass gasping for a few seconds before he noticed Karofsky and Azimio standing over him.

"Fags don't belong on the football field." Azimio spat.

Karofsky offered Blaine a hand up, which Blaine, still dazed, accepted. Karofsky gripped his hand tight and pulled the boy half way to his feet before releasing his hand and causing Blaine to fall once again on to the grass with a groan.

"Oops, my bad." Karofsky snickered and the two of them walked away, leaving Blaine in a heap.

Practice continued on like this, with Azimio and Karofsky taking every opportunity to tackle Blaine, often using significantly more force than necessary to take the smaller teen down. He was tackled once by Puck, who gave Blaine an apologetic glance after he'd knocked him sprawling, but he still did not help the other boy to his feet.

Blaine's ribs were protesting every time he took a breath. There were several more times that he'd seen the black spots come back into his vision, but he kept pushing himself harder and harder, refusing to give in and stay on the ground after taking the hits.

"Okay guys, lets run this one once more then we can get outta here." Coach Beiste said, blowing her whistle for what felt like the ten-thousandth time that day.

Blaine groaned.

Once more. I can do once more.

He lined up beside Sam again, not fully leaning into his ready position because his ribs were screaming at him to stand straight up. The whistle blew and Blaine took off across the field, wincing with every step. His lungs were throbbing and begging him to stop, and several new black spots danced in front of him.

Now into the endzone, he turned away from Puck and twisted back to the left, turning towards Sam with his arms outstretched. The throw came, another perfect spiral, and Blaine timed his feet with the ball, allowing it to fall gracefully into his arms. Another touchdown.

He slowed to a stop and dropped the ball and released the painful breath he'd been holding.

It's done. I caught it. Now I can…

His thoughts were interrupted as he was attacked from behind.

The crushing blow from the helmet of Azimio knocked him off his feet and sent him airborne - directly into the football uprights. His left shoulder connected first, sending a screaming jolt of pain up into his neck, as he lay there unmoving.

"Azimio! What the hell were you thinking? The play was dead!" Blaine could vaguely hear Coach Beiste screaming at the other teen but it sounded like she was very far away, or underwater, or… something.

Coach Beiste pushed her way past the other players and moved over to where Blaine still lay sprawled on the grass.

"Everyone, get out of here. Hit the showers. Enough for today."

The remainder of the football players scurried into the locker room, not paying much attention to Blaine, who was now, finally able to roll over and sit up… sort of.

He picked up his head woozily and through blurred vision, noticed Azimio and Karofsky exchanging high fives as they walked towards the locker room.

Blaine also happened to notice that Mike, Puck and Finn had all stayed back behind the rest of the team. Blaine couldn't be sure, but it almost looked like the boys each shared a nervous (and maybe guilty?) glance at each other before they too, exited the field.

Blaine had still not made it to his feet when Beiste arrived at his side. "Blaine, honey. Are you okay? That was a pretty nasty hit you took there."

Blaine blinked multiple times, trying to rid himself of the blurred vision that still continued to plague him. The sharp, stabbing pain in his left shoulder was intense now and he hissed audibly when he moved to stand up,

"Easy there cowboy. Take it slow."

Blaine was gracious when Beiste's two strong hands once again lowered him back down to the ground. He rested his back against the pole of the uprights and closed his eyes, silently praying for whoever was playing the drums behind his eyes to give it up for the night.

"You wanna talk about it?" Beiste offered after several minutes of silence. She'd set herself down on the grass next to Blaine and waited silently for his reply.

Blaine forced his eyes open, thankful that the black spots and blurred vision had seemingly disappeared.

"Huh?"

"Whatever is going on with you and the guys? You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay." She said, putting her hands in her pockets and leaning into Blaine until their shoulders were touching. "I'll wait till you're ready."

Blaine was puzzled.

Does she know? Great. Do all the teachers know?

"Blaine. I know there's some stuff going on for you right now. I overheard some of the things the guys were saying in the change room before practice. I know you might not want to talk about it right now, but I want you to know that I'm here if you need to talk. Any time, okay?"

Warmth spread throughout his chest that overpowered the throbbing ribs and the fire that was burning through his shoulder. Blaine could feel the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

I should tell her.

He looked up from the ground and into the face of his football coach. He'd never paid much attention to her appearance before. Besides her obvious masculine stature and harsh exterior, Blaine could tell that she'd been a beautiful girl when she was younger. She had the most gentle eyes. Blaine had heard from some of the guys that she'd recently married a football recruiter only a few weeks before his arrival at McKinley, but he didn't know any more details about her home life than that.

The gentle frown lines and crow's feet that streaked her face were no doubt caused by years of stress and exposure to the harsh elements. The bright red lipstick she often donned, no doubt her single attempt at proclaiming herself to be a woman. There was no doubt in his mind that she likely struggled to deal with the downfall of being a woman in a typically traditional men's profession.

Blaine could only imagine the hard time a person of her 'physique' would have undoubtedly had to deal with growing up. It was apparent to Blaine for the first time that out of anyone at this school, his coach might actually have a clue about what it meant to be a little bit different from everyone else.

I should tell her.

He couldn't prevent the single tear that escaped his eye and streamed down his bruised and dirt-covered cheek. He nodded his head and reached up to unbuckle his helmet, temporarily forgetting about the pain in his shoulder. He hissed, and retracted it back down into a position of comfort, slung gently around his middle.

"Here," Beiste offered. "Let me."

She reached up and gently unsnapped the chinstrap and loosened the helmet. She reached around with her other hand and smoothly pulled the helmet off Blaine's head and rested it on the ground next to him.

"There we go." She said softly. "Are you doing okay?"

Blaine only nodded.

I should tell her.

"That was a rough practice Blaine. I couldn't believe how many hits you took. I was impressed that you were still able to get up after some of them. You never let yourself stay down, and for that, you should be very proud."

Blaine nodded.

Are we still talking about football?

"Your shoulder looks pretty messed up Blaine. I think you should go to the doctor. Do you have someone to take you?"

Blaine looked up at her and nodded. "Yes. My mom will take me." He said quickly.

"Good. I think that's necessary. You got a little banged up hey?" She said, nodding towards his black eye and the now darkened bruising on his face.

Does she know?

I should tell her.

He nodded absently. "I tripped over my dog and fell down the stairs."

The lie gets easier the more you tell it.

She looked skeptical, but she said nothing. She leaned back into Blaine and put her arm gently around his shoulder.

They sat there for several minutes in silence before Blaine realized that it must be getting late into the afternoon.

"I should go. I have… work."

"Okay Blaine, but just remember what I said, okay?"

He nodded and took a deep breath before he grabbed onto the upright post with his right arm and tried to hoist himself to his feet.

"Come on, lean on me Blaine. I'm not going to topple over." She said with a wink. "I'm pretty sturdy."

Blaine smiled for the first time and nodded, leaning ever-so-gently into the much larger woman.

"You know, us black sheep… we gotta stick together."

Blaine flashed a second smile as he was finally in a semi-standing position, now crouched over, holding his left arm over his middle, both comforting his aching shoulder and clutching at his tender ribs.

"Thank you." He said softly.

"Of course Blaine." She replied. She slung her arm over his shoulders and helped him limp his way towards the change rooms. "Sometimes you just have to be able to ask for help."

He nodded. "I know."

A few more minutes of silence, aside from some pain-filled grunts and groans from Blaine had them standing near the entrance to the change rooms.

"You be sure to call me if you need someone to take you to the doctor okay Blaine?" She handed him a business card with the familiar 'McKinley Titans' logo on the front. "I'd be happy to take you."

Blaine looked stunned.

"Why would you do that? Help me like that?" Blaine asked, accepting the card and turning towards his new favorite football coach.

"Because Blaine. You will never know how much you've helped me." A single tear found its way down her cheek, which she casually wiped away, obviously hoping that he hadn't noticed.

Blaine was perplexed.

What is she talking about? I've helped her?

Beiste never elaborated on her statement, but she leaned into Blaine once more and gently squeezed his shoulder.

"You are loved pumpkin. You are not alone."

Blaine stood stunned for a moment before she gently squeezed his shoulder again and nodded towards the change room.

"You'd better get going. I'm sure all the guys are changed and out of there now."

He smiled and nodded again. "Thank you Coach." He meant it.

They both smiled, fighting back stray tears and headed their separate directions, neither noticing the slim, pale figure watching everything from up in the stands.

Blaine stumbled his way into the change room and was happy to discover that it was completely silent. Coach was right, everyone had vacated already.

I think she kept me behind on purpose.

He was fighting a smile as he turned towards his lockers. The scene he found before him ripped the partial grin from his face and sent waves of anger, devastation and betrayal flowing though his battered and beaten frame.

His locker had been broken into and all of his belongings were removed from his duffle bag. His school books were strewn about the floor, some with the covers torn off, and others missing pages.

All of his clothes were tattered and torn and gathered in a pile, which smelled strongly of urine.

His game jersey was hanging from the wall. His nameplate defaced; 'Anderson' was scribbled over with the words 'Lady Boy' with what looked like black permanent marker.

His shaving kit was ripped open and spilled all over the change room. The toothpaste tube was empty, its contents squeezed out onto the floor. His toothbrush and comb were in the toilet, along with a disgusting 'gift' from Azimio and Karofsky. His deodorant and cologne bottles were smashed and empty on the floor, and his shaving cream can was laying empty beside his locker which had the word "FAG" scrawled over the front in what appeared to be the remnants of his shaving cream.

But what hurt the most was seeing his letterman jacket ripped in half and stuffed into the urinal.

Blaine was shattered.

He wasn't sure if he felt mostly angry, frustrated, sad, or betrayed. The plethora of emotions that were surging through him made him lightheaded and sick to his stomach.

He was so engulfed in the scene that he didn't hear the door creeping open behind him.

"Blaine, are you alri… oh my god!"

Startled, Blaine turned quickly and came face to face with none other than Kurt Hummel.

Blaine was still speechless. He didn't know where to start. He stood in the middle of the locker room in a daze, unsure whether to laugh, cry or burst into hysterical screams.

Kurt took in the defeated posture of the boy and made up his mind quickly. He closed the gap between them and took Blaine into a deep embrace, ignoring the other boy's near-silent wince at the contact.

They held each other for several minutes before Blaine finally let his guard down and the floodgates broke open. He burst into uncontrollable sobs until he was shaking so heavily that Kurt lowered them both down to the floor.

Kurt continued to hold his new friend, running a hand through his sweat-covered curls and constantly whispering soft confirmations into his ear.

"Its okay Blaine. You're going to be okay. We'll get through this. It's going to be okay."

The two boys stayed like this for several minutes before Blaine's sobs finally let up, and he realized that he'd just lowered his barricades and suddenly felt extremely vulnerable.

"I-I'm sorry K-Kurt…" He stuttered, wiping his eyes.

"Don't apologize Blaine. You have every right to be upset. I can't believe they did this."

"It's not just this." Blaine indicated to the room with a nod. "At practice…"

"I know Blaine. I watched it all. Are you okay? It looked like your shoulder…"

"You were there?" Blaine looked shocked.

Kurt nodded and gently let go of Blaine's hands, which he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Of course I stayed to watch. I was scared for you."

"You were right." Blaine sighed, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "They tried to kill me."

Kurt smiled. "But I also saw you give them one hell of a fight."

Blaine's skin flushed pink underneath the blue and purple bruises. "Thanks."

"Okay." Announced Kurt, helping the other boy to his feet. "Let's get you cleaned up and to a doctor."

Blaine looked up at him in horror. "What? No. I-I can't."

"Blaine. You can't even lift your arm and I'm certain that those ribs are broken now if they weren't before." Kurt explained, pointing to where Blaine was absentmindedly still clutching his side.

Blaine dropped his left arm, as if trying to prove a point, but Kurt didn't miss the brief wave of pain that flashed through his eyes in the process.

Kurt shook his head in disapproval. "I'm not taking no for an answer. Go get showered and I'm driving you to the hospital."

Blaine turned and backed away from Kurt slowly.

I can't. I can't. I can't.

He sat down on the bench gingerly and tried to take off his jersey, with minimal success.

Kurt sighed. "Come on, let me help."

Blaine hesitated only momentarily before nodding. He knew that wasn't going to be able to do this by himself.

Kurt was able to remove the white practice jersey but then fumbled around with the snaps and buckles on Blaine's shoulder pads. "Hmmmm, in the brief time I wore this fashionable ensemble, I never did get these damn things figured out."

Blaine tried to hide the smile that was tugging at the corner of his mouth.

After several moments, and multiple pained gasps from Blaine, Kurt successfully removed the shoulder pads and tossed them to the floor unceremoniously.

Blaine stood up from the bench and tried to tug off the sweat-covered Under Armor shirt, which was now plastered to his toned body. It was not coming off without a fight.

He looked at Kurt again and wordlessly begged, 'a little help?'

Kurt smiled, "Jeez Blaine, I thought I wore a lot of layers…"

Blaine smiled only slightly as Kurt reached over to help pull the skin-tight shirt off the shorter boy, exposing his tanned, but contusion-riddled upper body.

"Oh my god Blaine!"

Blaine quickly looked around for something to cover his chest with, but remembered that all of his clothes and towels were sitting in a filthy pile of urine and who knows what else.

Kurt reached up and gently touched some of the bruises on the other boy's torso. He sighed softly as he did a mental inventory of all of the cuts, scrapes and bruises that speckled Blaine's chest and sides.

He noticed with a pang in his own chest that there were more bruises than before, some old ones and some obviously newly acquired ones.

But what made his heart sink to the floor was the finger shaped bruising that surrounded both of Blaine's wrists.

Kurt closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before he trusted himself to speak.

"Blaine. What is going on with you? These aren't all from football."

Blaine's eyes widened in instant panic. He pulled away from Kurt instinctively but didn't get far before he staggered slightly. Kurt was there in an instant to catch him before he stumbled to the ground.

"Blaine, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Just please tell me what's going on."

Nothing.

"Blaine…"

"It's nothing. I'm fine." He refused to make eye contact with Kurt.

"You're not fine Blaine."

"I tripped over my dog and fell down…" He was interrupted.

"Bullshit. Blaine. What really happened? Did someone do this to you?"

Blaine began to flounder. "You were there. It was Karofsky and Azimio."

"No, it wasn't." Kurt said intensely. "Neither of them had you by the wrists Blaine."

Blaine turned white.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Kurt took a break from his interrogation and slowly picked up Blaine's hands in his own once again. His fingers lingered gently over the angry purple bruises that marked up the boy's arms. He didn't know how he'd missed them before. It then occurred to him that Blaine rarely ever wore anything but long sleeve shirts under his football jersey at school. Kurt couldn't even think of any other clothes that he'd ever seen the other boy wear before. Had he been hiding these bruises underneath his football jersey this whole time?

"Blaine, I'm sorry but you need to tell somebody what's going on."

Blaine swallowed and looked up at Kurt.

"I-I can't go to the hospital."

"Okay." Kurt said. 'That's a start. Why not?"

Because then they'll know.

"Just because, okay? I just can't." Blaine hesitated again. "I have to go home now."

He turned to leave, but was caught once again by Kurt's strong arms.

"Please Blaine, don't walk away from me. I want to help you."

Blaine stopped struggling and turned to face Kurt. He didn't say anything, only looked deep into the eyes of the taller boy and sighed.

"Go get showered and at least let me take you home, okay?" Kurt begged, using his best puppy eyes.

Blaine contemplated for a moment before nodding. "Okay, but you have to promise you won't tell anyone okay?"

A shiver ran up Kurt's spine at Blaine's request.

What is going on with him?

"Kurt? You have to promise me."

Kurt nodded reluctantly.

"Say it Kurt. Tell me you promise."

Kurt's chest ached as he took in the seriousness of the other boy's demeanor. He wasn't messing around.

"I promise." He squeaked.

Blaine nodded then turned around and limped towards the shower room after grabbing a small towel from the rack next to the free weight set.

It took several attempts and a near-fall for him to remove his skintight football pants and cleats, but soon enough Blaine was standing under the showerhead, letting the scorching hot water flow down his abused body. He treated himself to a bottle of body wash that lay abandoned in the shower stall and scrubbed himself the best he could with one arm. He spent several minutes letting the water flow over his head and down his face with his eyes closed in near-contentment.

His mind wandered back to what seemed like forever ago when he and Kurt were sitting under the tree. It seemed strange that it had only been just a few hours before.

~~~ FLASHBACK ~~~

They'd been sitting peacefully for several minutes, Blaine looking off into the distance and Kurt fumbling with several long strands of dry grass.

"If it makes you feel better, I haven't always been this…out." Kurt had said unexpectedly.

"What do you mean?"

Kurt thought for a moment before he chuckled. "I went through this phase a while back where I tried to be straight to impress my dad."

Blaine looked over to Kurt, with a shocked look on his face. "Do tell."

Kurt smiled and licked his lips as he recalled the memory. "It was bad. I even went as far as dressing in flannel and singing a few Mellencamp songs."

Blaine's eyes widened and a grin broke out across his face. "No shit."

"I'm afraid it's true. It was literally rock bottom for me."

Blaine laughed, licking his dry and swollen lips.

"How was I supposed to know that the song 'Pink Houses' wasn't actually about interior decorating?" Kurt said incredulously.

Blaine released a full laugh at this point.

"Brittany was the only one that saw right through my façade. We ended up dating." Kurt explained. He turned to Blaine and wagged a finger at him. "But don't ever repeat that to anyone, I'll only deny it."

Kurt chuckled before adding, "I even put a sign up on my door when we were making out in the basement. It said 'do not enter under any circumstances - I'm making out with a girl' so my dad would intentionally come down and find us."

At this point Blaine was giggling uncontrollably. "Wait… you made out with Brittany?"

"Again. I'll deny everything."

Kurt sighed and fell back into the dry leaves. "And Finn. Oh god! Don't get me started on him…"

Blaine smirked again. "So I guess that's over then?"

"It never even got started. God, I made an ass of myself."

Another chuckle from Blaine was followed by several moments of silence once again.

"So, did it work? With your dad I mean?" Blaine said, suddenly serious.

Kurt snorted. "Not even a little bit. I think he knew I was gay before I did."

They sat quietly again for several minutes before Blaine spoke up.

"I have a hard time believing that you ever tried to hide your true self Kurt."

Kurt shrugged. "I'm a good actor."

Blaine frowned. "At least you know what you want. I wish I had half the courage you do Kurt."

Kurt shrugged again. "You're off to a good start Blaine. You told someone. You told me. That's the hardest part."

~~~ END OF FLASHBACK ~~~

Blaine had lost track of time until the water began to run slightly cooler and he remembered where he was. He shut off the water and grabbed the small towel, wrapping it around his hips and stepped out of the shower stall. His muscles still ached, but he felt a thousand times better than he had before the shower.

When he reached the locker room, he noticed immediately that the mess had been cleaned up. His belongings were no longer strewn about and the angry slur had been wiped clean from his locker.

He walked over to the bench in awe and found a fresh set of clothes sitting there for him, neatly folded, along with a small bag containing deodorant, toothpaste, a toothbrush (still in the packaging) and a comb, along with several other bathroom-related items.

He picked up the pile of clothes and began to get dressed after drying himself off as best he could with the tiny 'Titans' towel.

He was standing in the change room with the jeans on, albeit unbuttoned, and was just doing up the buttons of the baby blue Marc Jacobs designer shirt when Kurt knocked on the lockers adjacent to where he stood.

"You doing okay?"

Blaine looked over to Kurt with an indescribable look of gratitude and nodded. "Thank you, Kurt."

"Well," Kurt said, picking up Blaine's discarded towel and tossing it into the hamper. "We can't have you wearing toilet clothes, can we?"

He looked over to where Blaine stood, with his dark curly hair still clumped together in wet locks. Several drops of water were still finding their way down his neck and disappearing under the collar of the shirt. Kurt couldn't help but notice that the shirt looked amazing on the shorter teen. He had a more defined musculature to his chest than Kurt himself had, and the shirt was tight in all the right places. The dark hazel of Blaine's eyes offset the light-blue color of the shirt and Kurt concluded that Blaine looked amazing with a little color. He could only ever recall seeing him in the red McKinley Titans football uniform.

Blaine smiled as he finished buttoning up the shirt and slipped on a fashionable grey sweater. He struggled in his attempt to button up the black skinny jeans that had been provided for him. Doing up a pair of jeans with one hand was hard enough, but when they were about three sizes too small and skintight? Blaine was finding it to be an arduous task.

"Uhhh… They're a little…snug…" He blushed as fumbled with the zipper.

Kurt grinned at the sight of the other boy squeezing into the tight black jeans.

Would it be inappropriate for me to make a comment about him getting into my pants?

Blaine finally managed to get the pants done up and ran a hand through his curly mess of hair.

"Don't suppose you have any gel?"

Kurt smiled again. "No, but if you ask me, you look better without it."

The two boys walked slowly out of the locker rooms and towards Kurt's car, which remained untouched in the parking lot where he'd left it that day.

"I can't believe you stayed here for me." Blaine exclaimed as he painfully crawled into the vehicle with assistance from Kurt.

"That's what friends do, Blaine. They help each other out." Kurt smiled and winked as he shut Blaine's door and walked around and climbed into the driver's side.

The drive to Blaine's house was quiet, with only small talk filling the air every now and again.

They talked about their favorite shopping centers and hangouts and Blaine mentioned a coffee shop that was near his house called the 'Tea Tree'. They agreed that they would meet up someday soon so Kurt could sample a non-fat mocha. He'd proclaimed himself to be a mocha connoisseur so Blaine had insisted.

"It's the grey house just up there on the left Kurt. You can pull over here." Blaine said pointing to a two-story house with a white picket fence.

Kurt pulled the car over to the curb and looked at Blaine.

"You know I'm here if you need to talk, right?"

Blaine nodded shyly.

"You're sure you don't…"

Blaine cut him off. "No Kurt. I'm fine. If I need to go to the hospital my mom can take me later. Thank you though."

Kurt nodded hesitantly.

"You're going to keep your promise, right?" Blaine asked, obviously sensing Kurt's hesitation. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

Again, Kurt's chest ached, as he knew he was making a poor decision.

"Yes, Blaine. I promise."

"Okay." Blaine said, opening his car door. Before he painfully stepped away, he looked back at Kurt through the open window.

"Thank you Kurt. For everything. I'll get these clothes back to you as soon as I can, and the toiletries kit. I'll replace it all." Blaine sounded slightly overwhelmed.

Kurt stifled a laugh. "Blaine you worry too much. It's just some soap and a toothbrush. It's the spare kit that I keep in my locker for after slushy attacks and emergencies. Consider it yours to keep. The shirt and jeans look better on you anyways so you can hang onto them if you like, but I do want that sweater back."

Blaine looked utterly astonished. He couldn't come up with any words to express his appreciation.

Kurt noticed the hesitation and decided to break the ice.

"Sorry I didn't have any new shaving stuff to replace yours with. But really, Blaine – who shaves at school?"

Blaine collected himself and smiled.

"Not everyone is gifted with baby-ass-smooth skin Kurt."

"Did you just tell me that my face looks like an ass?"

Blaine's face went white as he sputtered out an attempted apology before noticing that Kurt was laughing at his expense. Childishly, Blaine glared and stuck his tongue out at him.

Kurt just smiled. "You're sure you don't want me to walk you up the steps to your house?"

"I'll be fine. I have to go around to the rear entrance anyways. There's a ramp there." Blaine concurred with a smile.

"Okay Blaine. Hope you… feel… better tomorrow. See you at school?"

Blaine nodded and smiled. "Sure. Have a good night. And again, Kurt, thanks." He turned away from the car and began walking away.

Kurt watched as the boy limped gingerly around the side of the grey house, giving him a tiny wave before disappearing into the back yard.

Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. What the hell is going on with you?

Author's Note:

Phew! That was a loooong one!

Thanks for reading. Please review and let me know what you think!

Xoxo

-RH