After Santana left that evening, Blaine slowly made his way off of his bed and over to his bathroom mirror. Looking at his reflection Blaine took in his still battered face, though the bruises were now fading and some of them had gone completely. Carefully his unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off of his shoulders. Taking in his torso which was still littered with bruises where the bandages covering his ribs didn’t hide. He sighed rubbing the dark bruise-like circles that had formed under his eyes ad he turned the tap on filling a glass with water before reaching to take one of the pain relief medications he was still on.

I’m sick of this. He thought to himself as he slowly pulled a pyjama t-shirt on so not to hurt his ribs before pulling on a loose pair of sweat pants and making his way over to his bed to call Kurt. Why do I deserve this when all I was doing was buying flowers for my boyfriend?

Blaine sighed to himself as he reached for his phone noticing that Kurt had texted him.

From Kurt:

Hey sweetie, something came up and I can’t call you tonight. Sorry, I love you. I’ll text you later. xxx

...

Blaine spent the Sunday and Monday lounging around the house. His parents had decided he would return to Dalton in a couple of days once things had calmed down from the return from winter break. Blaine didn't mind, he knew he wouldn't get to see Kurt or Santana as often as he had over the holiday, but then again he'd barely even talked to them since they had performed with the new directions for him. All he'd had since then were brief, hurried texts from Santana saying she couldn't talk because she'd been roped into helping at the hospital, and vague texts from Kurt stating something had come up and he wouldn't be able to come over or call for the next couple of days.

Without his nightly phone calls with Kurt, Blaine had been sleeping fitfully. Falling asleep in the early hours of the morning after lying in his bed for hours, only to be woken up by nightmares of his attack that left him exhausted and fighting to catch his breath as tears rolled down his cheeks. No one knew though. His parents could see the dark, bruise like circles forming under his eyes, and his tired expression, but every time they asked if he was tired or feeling ok, he would brush it off as his pain medication making him feel drowsy.
Blaine knew they didn't really believe him, but there was no point in worrying them with something they couldn't help.

...

"Ok Blaine, I'm off to work now sweetie, but I'll have my phone on me if you need me. Mrs Grimaldi from next door said to call if you needed help or anything and she'd be right over." Cristina Anderson said to her son who was sat on the couch with his hands curled round a cup of coffee.

"I'll be home at four in time to take you to therapy at five okay?" she asked smoothing Blaine's hair off his face.

"Try and take a nap in a bit ok?" she said kissing Blaine's forehead.

"Yeah mom, I'll try." Blaine lied.

He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep; he'd been awake since three after waking up crying from a very vivid nightmare. He knew talking about it would probably help, but he didn't want to be a burden to anyone. He knew his hospital bills were bound to be astronomical on top of the tuition his parents were paying for Dalton, and Kurt worried about him enough as it was. But maybe actually talking in this therapy session would help. He'd spent his last two sessions sitting there in silence, ignoring the therapist’s questions. Not that anyone other than his parents knew that.

To Kurt:

Have fun at school, call me tonight? After therapy? Xx

Blaine texted, in the hope that he and Kurt would finally be able to talk, and hopefully he'd be able to finally get some sleep too.

From Kurt:

Thanks sweetie, can't talk tonight though. Sorry :s I'll text you later class is starting xx

Blaine sighed reading the text.

"Another sleepless night I guess." Blaine said out loud to his empty house running his hand through his messy, ungelled hair. Sighing he got up carefully off the couch and slowly made his way upstairs to take a shower.

God. Blaine thought, looking at himself in the mirror as he pulled his t-shirt off over his head, examining the bruises which had mostly faded into a yellowy green colour, but still scattered his olive toned skin.

...

To Kurt:

Have fun at school, call me tonight? After therapy? Xx

Kurt sighed reading Blaine's text and tapping out a quick reply.

To Blaine:

Thanks sweetie, can't talk tonight though. Sorry :s I'll text you later class is starting xx

He sighed again looking up at his history teacher who was simply dictating to them from the textbook. Kurt looked back down at his phone in his lap. His fingers hovering over a blank text.

"You going back up to Dalton tonight Kurt?" Mercedes whispered from her seat next to Kurt, making him jump slightly, his eyes flickering up to the teacher at the front of the class.

"Yeah, Wes and David are freaking out. Apparently they don't work great under pressure. Don't forget you guys need to be there after school tomorrow." he whispered back.

"I feel bad though, I haven't seen Blaine in days! I can't even call him in case I slip up. He can't know about what's going on up at Dalton, and I'm awful at keeping things from him." Kurt whispered resting his head on his hand and flipping the page in his textbook.

"It's only a couple more days Kurt." Mercedes replied shooting him a sad smile.

"I know." Kurt hummed in reply turning his head back to the teacher but completely zoning out from his lecture.

Only a couple more days. He thought to himself before quickly texting Blaine and putting his phone back in his pocket.

To Blaine:

I love you! So so much xxxxxxxx

...

From Kurt:

I love you! So so much xxxxxxxx

Blaine smiled as he checked his phone, towelling dry his hair after getting out of the shower.

“Maybe today won’t be as bad as I thought.” He muttered moving over to his dresser to find some sweat pants and a clean shirt before changing as quickly as his ribs would let him, and heading back down to the front room.