Chapter 4

                Blaine didn't wake up until late into Sunday. His dreams had left him irritated and under-rested. Somewhere in a discarded pocket his phone rang. He buried his head under his pillow until it stopped. He didn't want to acknowledge a new day. Doing so would mean he'd have to acknowledge the previous night, and he didn't want to do that. His phone jingled again indicating someone had left him a text message. That reminded him that he hadn't even given Kurt his phone number. Not that he'd be using it now.
                He dragged himself to the edge of the bed and slid onto the floor in a heap. He wiggled on his stomach in a rather pathetic manner until he could reach the phone from a pocket in his heap of clothes on the floor.
                ‘Are you dead??!'
                ‘No. Don't want to talk about it. Need a day off." Blaine wrote back. He didn't want to see the twins today. He didn't want cheering up or saving. He just wanted to sleep.
                ‘Omg Blaine we were a step away from coming and breaking down your door.'
                ‘Please don't'
                ‘You sure you don't need anything?'
                ‘Yeah. I just need a day...'

                Blaine crawled back into bed with his phone. How stupid was he to think that suppressing his life in Pennsylvania would fix anything? All it had done was made him a ticking time bomb. This was all supposed to be over. It wasn't fair. Kurt was so...so heartwarming. He was the spark that Blaine needed to really get things back together. And within minutes of their first almost date, he'd blown it. Idiot.

                Blaine dozed off again but woke up suddenly to the shrill cry of the warbler in the next room. Blaine's heart started pounding hard in his ears as he heard the click of his front door closing. Did the twins actually show up to make sure he wasn't dead? Are they stupid? Blaine was going to pound them. He was so not in the mood for surprises.
                There was a light knocking on Blaine's bedroom door. Blaine paused in his search to find something to hurl. The twins wouldn't knock. Neither would a burglar. He breathed heavily, not sure whether to respond or pretend he wasn't there.
                "Blaine?" a half whispered voice came from the other side of the door. If Blaine's heart was racing already, now it was training to be an Olympic sprinter. How the hell was this even happening?
                "Umm...yeah?" said Blaine, not willing to get out of bed and not sure that this was real. The door opened slightly and there stood Kurt with two large take-out cups of coffee in his hand.
                "I...um...brought coffee. I know it's kind of late for it...but 4 o'clock is tea time in England right? Coffee's kind of like tea..." he trailed off, knowing he was babbling, but still seeming like he didn't want to enter the room. Blaine couldn't believe this. Had he imagined shoving Kurt into a chair last night? Why was he here?
                "Kurt....why?..."
                "You know what, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come back. I don't know why I did."
                "No, no Kurt. It's fine. I just... how did you even get in?"
                "Someone's moving out I guess. The door was propped open downstairs so I just came up and knocked. No one answered so I tried the door and it was still unlocked from when I...When I left..."
                So he hadn't been imagining last night. It did happen. Blaine was mortified all over again.
                "Why are you here then?"
                "Well I...I came back in to get my scarf last night and I guess...I guess I heard you...in here...so I just wanted to make sure you were ok and everything and to...to say sorry. I'm sorry, Blaine I shouldn't have even tried anything. I don't know what's wrong with me."
                "YOU'RE sorry?? I'M the one who shoved you across the room and told you to leave! Jesus, Kurt, I'M the one who should be sorry. I just can't believe...I can't..." his voice caught and he couldn't finish his sentence. Kurt moved slowly across the room and put the coffee cup on Blaine's night stand. Blaine stared at his knees under his blankets. Kurt made to leave the room.
                "Wait,' said Blaine quietly. Kurt paused, but was already standing in the living room with his hand on the door. "Kurt..." he didn't know how to start. "I need to tell you... you need to know that it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong last night, I'm just... I'm messed up."
                "Blaine you don't have to... I'll understand."
                "No, Kurt. Look, I like you. I like you a lot. And if I have any hope of redeeming myself you need to know things about me before this goes anywhere." Kurt came slowly back into the room, but still hesitated.
                "Blaine you don't have to tell me anything. I like you too but... if this is too hard..."
                "Kurt, please. I need to talk about it. I've never really told everyone everything."
                Kurt sat at the foot of Blaine's bed and it occurred to Blaine that this was completely not how he would have liked a love-interest to see his bedroom for the first time, but so be it. Kurt took a sip from his coffee.
                "I was bullied in high school," began Blaine. Kurt nodded knowingly.
                "It always starts with a bully doesn't it?" Kurt almost laughed. Blaine smiled a little, but got back on track.
                "His name was Adam"...

                ...Blaine didn't know why he had been chosen as the one to be picked on, but most of his high school memories involved Adam.
                "Hey Gayne!" His annoying voice would ring out down the hall.
                "Good morning Adam" Blaine would monotonously reply. This was usually followed by a shove into the lockers or a punch in the shoulder.
                Adam was thankfully only in a few of Blaine's classes, because Adam was a year older but had failed math, plus they had a split-grade music class. But those classes, which Blaine otherwise loved, became the worst part of his day.
                In the math class Adam planted himself in the seat behind Blaine. The hour was generally filled with bits of paper being bounced off the back of his head and the sound of stifled giggles from the girls that Adam was clearly showing off for. A couple of times Blaine had raised his hand in the middle of class asking if he could move seats. Adam would furrow his brow and throw his hands in the air defensively. "Sorry Miss, he must have been annoyed by me tapping my pencil. I'll try to stop." Or, "Sorry, I farted. Blaine's prissy nose probably can't handle it." The entire class had burst into laughter. It took well over a minute for their teacher to regain control of the class. Her response was "Try to control your wind in my class, Adam, or ask to be excused. Blaine, just focus on your work and ignore him if it bothers you that much." When she had turned back to the board Adam stabbed Blaine in the back with his pencil and hissed "You're never going to win this game, little Gayne. Try to concentrate now" and he continued to poke Blaine in the back and sides with the sharp end of his pencil.
                In music class Blaine played guitar and Adam played trombone. Therefore most of the time Adam was sitting behind Blaine in this class as well. In math class it was bits of paper, in music class it was the slide of Adam's trombone. It often ‘accidentally' knocked Blaine in the back of the head or neck. The few times the teacher had caught him, he had corrected Adam's slide positioning and suggested moving his chair back a few inches so we didn't have any more mishaps. Adam would happily oblige and then move his chair back forward a few minutes later. One time Adam came to class with a new taunt for Blaine.
                "Hey, Gayne. I wrote a song for you. Wanna hear it?"
                "Not particularly, but I have a feeling I don't have a choice." Adam played a few notes on his trombone.
                "Oooooh Gayne..." He blasted a non-note into Blane's ear. "You're such a pain...." He moved his slide up and down in a few more notes. "I wish you'd just hang...." He blasted a note again "Yourseeeeeeeeeeeeeeelf". He played the lowest note his instrument was capable of and held it for as long as he could for effect. A few other people had come into the class and were setting up as this performance was happening. Some of the flutes looked over their shoulder in disgust. Adam's buddy who played trumpet came over and high fived him.
                "Pure genius, Adam", said Blaine sarcastically. "You should win a Grammy." Adam blasted his trombone at the back of Blaine's head again.
                Blaine replied with sarcasm, but part of him actually wanted to die, right then and there. Die of embarrassment. Die of exhaustion. Die from feeling like crap for so long. He tried to lose himself in tuning his guitar.
                The best day of Blaine's high school life was the day that Adam graduated. There would be one full year of school that was bully-free. On his last day, Adam was waiting for Blaine at his locker. Blaine hesitated but didn't want the predator to smell fear. He walked to his locker, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary. Adam didn't say anything as Blaine rifled through his books.
                "You know it's rude to not greet people", said Adam, with his arms folded in front of him.
                "When I see a real person, I'll greet them. All I see is an ass." Blaine had never talked back to Adam like that, and immediately regretted it. He braced for a punch to the face. But Adam just laughed.
                "Oh, Gayne. What are you going to do without me next year? You're going to be so bored!"
                "Maybe I'll actually spend it paying attention in class or talking with my friends", grumbled Blaine. Adam snorted again.
                "Friends? You think anyone here actually likes you? I've spent the last three years trying to take you under my wing and ward off some of the jerks in this school, and I haven't even gotten so much as a ‘thank you', and you think you have FRIENDS? If this is the way you treat your friends, no wonder no one cares about you." Blaine turned slowly towards Adam. He wanted to punch him square in the nose, but he knew that he'd never win that fight, either in the hall or the principal's office. No one would side with the angry music dweeb over the popular blonde who could talk his way out of anything with ease.
                "Pardon??" Blaine finally spat out. "You were... PROTECTING ME??"
                "Dude, have you seen some of the guys on the football team here? I made you my little project so they would know you were spoken for already and you wouldn't get their wrath towards your... gayness." Blaine couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was this honestly what Adam thought he was doing, or was this his form of excusing his behavior for the last few years? Blaine fought to not blow up. The springs and screws that were holding his perfectly formed brain together were beginning to pop and bend out of place as he tried to piece together whether  his entire high school experience had been a joke or not.
                "No, Adam." he said finally, "No. You will not be excused for the way you treated me. You are not my friend. I don't like you and you've made it clear that you don't care for me much either. I am glad you're leaving." Adam frowned and looked as though he might hit something.  He seemed to pull himself together finally.
                "Oh, Gayne. So sentimental. Don't miss me too much." He ruffled Blaine's hair, a little too roughly, and finished by throwing his head towards the lockers. Adam sauntered down the hall and didn't look back. Blaine rubbed his forehead where it had hit the locker and pressed back the angry tears that were threatening to push their way out of his eyes. Crying wouldn't help the image that Adam had set for him.

                The next year wasn't as relaxed as Blaine had hoped. Every time he heard a voice that sounded too much like Adam coming down the hall, his heart jumped into his throat. Every time a locker near him banged shut he braced for the impact that never came. But aside from that he actually started to enjoy his music class the way he wanted to. He developed a crush on a boy, who he wasn't sure was gay or not, but he didn't dare say anything for fear of starting the whole mocking process over again. He excelled in English class and his favourite part was the independent study project, which most others in the class hated. He began his project on clocks. He had always had a fascination for how clocks worked and wanted to do more research himself, this was just a good excuse. Within all his searching he had stumbled upon the word ‘Steampunk'. ‘This is me' thought Blaine, the more he read. ‘This is who I am. This is where I belong'. He gained a new confidence after that. A new sense of self. A new knowledge of something that he wanted to be a part of his future. He had a future.
                He passed all his classes and too soon it was graduation. Their valedictorian was some curly haired blonde girl that Blaine had only seen maybe once in the hall. She spoke about equality and love and how amazing and accommodating their school was. Blaine stopped listening after that.
                The first week of summer vacation felt weird. He was supposed to be an adult now. He was supposed to be getting ready for college, but he hadn't applied anywhere, much to his parent's annoyance. They fought almost daily about how he was throwing his life away. Blaine kept saying that he needed a year to just be himself before letting the education system tell him who he was supposed to be. After a particularly loud post- dinner disagreement, Blaine had grabbed his sweater and stormed off into the night. He didn't know where he was going, he just knew he needed to leave. It was a warm night, but Blaine still zipped his sweater up and shoved his hands in his pockets. He stared at his feet while he walked and soon he realized he had walked all the way to the downtown, about an hour from his house. He slowed his pace a little and tried to avoid the night-time crowd that flitted in and out of bars and alleyways. He was about to give up his walk and head for home when he heard a voice behind him that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
                "Gayne! Buddy!" Blaine turned his head just in time to see Adam walk into a garbage can at the edge of the sidewalk, clearly drunk. Blaine pretended he didn't hear and sped up slightly. "Ooooh Gayne.... You're such a pain....." He began a rendition of his high school ditty before giggling too much to continue.
                "Get lost Adam." Said Blaine, feigning bravery, with his heart pounding in his ears. "How have you even been drinking anyway, you're only 19?"
                "That may be so, but-", he paused and produced an ID card from his pocket, "- Eugene Johnstone, is 22, and we're the spitting image" He grinned goofily and held the card up beside his face for comparison. Blaine ignored him and turned onto the next street. He immediately realized that was a mistake. It was getting darker and the only thing on this little side road was a mechanic and a bakery.
                "Come on Gayne. Let's stop and talk. Man to man. No little school kids to interrupt here."
                That's what Blaine was afraid of. He heard Adam's dragging footsteps speed up to match his pace.
                "I said STOP, you little fairy." Adam's voice turned into a growl. Blaine made to break into a run, but Adam was too fast for him. He felt Adam grab the hood of his sweater and sharply pull him backwards. Blaine tried to twist free but just found himself crashing to his knees on the pavement. Adam picked him up by the front of his shirt and slammed him into the wall of an adjacent alley way.
                "Now, last time we talked, you weren't being very nice to me," Adam snarled, his nose less than an inch from Blaine's. His breath smelled terrible and his eyes were wild and black streaked with red. Blaine wondered if he was on drugs because he'd never seen eyes like that before. Adam seemed out of breath but his hold on Blaine's sweater never weakened, iron clad with adrenaline.
                "Adam, you're drunk, or high, or whatever, just get off me ok? You don't need to be like this, I've never done anything but put up with your antics. I've never tried to fight back. I've never gotten you in trouble even when I should have. What is your problem with me?" Blaine strained to keep his voice even. He wanted to yell, but knew that Adam would lose it if he did. Adam still stood uncomfortably close to Blaine, breathing heavily.
                "You're just.... You're so... So damn PERFECT all the time. You don't know what it's like..."
                "What what's like?" Blaine's mind was racing. All possible escape routes mapped out in his head. All of them ended with Adam attacking instantly. His cell phone was in his back pocket and currently his hands were up against the wall, level with his head in a sign of surrender. Adam would know if he made to reach for it. Blaine prayed that Adam would pass out or something so he could just run. Adam had regained a normal breathing pattern and seemed to be wrestling with how or whether to answer Blaine. What happened next was anything but what Blaine expected. Adam's hands moved from Blaine's chest to Blaine's throat in a flash, pinning Blaine's head to the concrete wall behind him. Blaine's hands automatically locked around Adam's wrists, trying to lessen the pressure on his wind pipe. Adam's forehead leaned against Blaine's with an uncomfortable weight. He let out a low frustrated growl before kissing Blaine so roughly that Blaine wasn't even able to wrench his head away. The next thing he knew he was being thrown across the alley into the side of a dumpster. He landed in a heap on the ground. His head was spinning and hot pain seared through his elbow.
                "Being gay is a SIN!" yelled Adam, to no one in particular. He pounded his fists against the wall where Blaine was just standing. Blaine tried to reach for his cell phone but he couldn't find it. He finally saw it a few feet away from him. The screen was cracked. He hoped it still worked. He tried to drag himself into a crawling position, but Adam became aware of his movement. In two steps he was across the alley and kicked Blaine in the stomach, forcing him into a fetal position again.
                "Why am I so attracted to you?" Adam growled, as if Blaine could give him the answer. "What is wrong with me?"
                "Nothing's wrong with you" Blaine got out. None of this was making sense. The pain in his head was making everything echo and it was a chore to hear Adam clearly, let alone answer back. "There are people you can talk to Adam. Please don't take this out on me."
                "But it's YOUR FAULT!" Shouted Adam, grabbing a hold of Blaine's sweater and dragging him to his feet again. Adam shook him. "YOUR. FAULT." he said again, an inch from Blaine's face."If it wasn't for you I wouldn't feel these... urges..." He eyed Blaine up and down making him increasingly uncomfortable.
                "If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else" muttered Blaine, trying to look away, but Adam took up so much of his line of sight that it was hard to do.
                "Shut up, Gayne", snarled Adam, throwing him to the ground. Blaine landed on his stomach with his right arm pinned underneath him. He was sure that between the pain in his elbow and now his wrist that something was broken."Just... shut UP" said Adam again, swinging his leg into another hard kick between Blaine's legs. Blaine let out a loud cry and he tried to bring his knees up to his chest, but Adam was sitting on his back before he could move much. Adam's hands found Blaine's neck again and he became hyper-aware of the pieces of broken glass and stones digging into the side of his face. He closed his eyes tightly to try to at least save them.
                "Let's just see how gay you are" Adam slurred in Blaine's ear. He removed one hand from Blaine's neck and began tearing at the back of Blaine's pants.
                ‘This is not happening' thought Blaine. ‘This can't be happening to me'. He knew he should be yelling. He knew he should try to draw attention. But it was like the part of his body that made his voice work had rusted and seized. The only sound he could make was a dry squeak as pain coursed through his entire body. Even if he could yell, what good would the cops be anyway? ‘Dirty teenage homos' is all they would see, not a rapist and his prey. They would either both get warnings or both get arrested. Their parent's would be brought into it because they were minors. Blaine would get half the blame and Adam would waltz his way out of it. That's what always happened. His one free hand searched the pavement around him for anything to use as a weapon, but with his face pinned to the ground it was hard to maneuver his arm very far. 
                When Adam first pulled Blaine into the alley, Blaine thought Adam might kill him. Something about the crazed look that was forming in his eyes. Even if Adam had no idea what he was going to do when he started, he was out of his mind enough to do anything.
                At this point Blaine wished Adam had thrown him a little harder into the dumpster so that maybe he would have passed out or died on the spot. Death would have been better than this.
                Blaine was biting his lower lip to keep from crying. He'd been doing too much of that lately. But he was too tired to even make tears it seemed. His body went limp. He forced his mind to go somewhere else.
                Eventually he became aware of the taste of blood and the inability to breathe. He had bitten through his lip. He released his teeth and realized he had been clenching his jaw too because his whole face hurt. The weight on top of him turned out to be Adam who had apparently passed out a few minutes before. He was too afraid and sore to move for a while, and then he was filled with an overwhelming urge to just get out of there. He shifted his shoulders, testing the move-ability of the weight on top of him. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Adam up again. He shifted to his left and felt his skin still in contact with Adam's. He weakened again and wanted to throw up, but he made himself keep edging free. Adam moaned and muttered something unintelligible. Blaine froze, willing himself to melt in to the glass strewn pavement beneath him. He had to focus on each limb individually to make it move. Pain still burned thorough his right elbow as he pushed himself into a crouched position. He re adjusted his pants and noticed the back of one of his pant legs was stained with blood. He took a few stumbled steps and tripped over his phone. His phone. He stabbed a few buttons but the screen didn't light up. Either the battery had died or it was broken beyond repair. He pocketed the useless piece of technology and fumbled his way to the end of the alley.
                The street was dark. There was a single street light across the road. He didn't know what to do, now that he was free. He remembered the fight he had just had with his parents and realized that he didn't want to go home. Home was at least an hour away and he had no money for a cab. He should go to a hospital for his arm, but that would raise questions about why he looked like such a mess. He wasn't sure if he wanted to just go running to someone and stammer away about being raped anyways. It would just sound like a cry for attention, especially coming from a guy, and especially since he was just in a position to make his parents listen to him more. No, running to someone wasn't an option right now. At any rate he didn't think he could say the words out loud. It would mean that it had really happened and right now he was still hoping he was badly concussed and this was all a hallucination. His heart rate picked up and he forced himself to walk. Anywhere. Just away from this road. Walking was tremendously hard and he knew he'd never be able to run if Adam somehow woke up and gave chase. He winced with every step. He couldn't let anyone see him like this.
                He avoided the main street but headed in the general direction of his house, although he still wasn't sure that's where he wanted to go. Although he also had no phone now so he couldn't call and make up something about staying at a friend's and they would probably think he was dead if he wasn't answering his phone. Maybe he WAS dead. Maybe this was his half conscious brain making up some terrible story to ease him into the fact that death isn't so bad.
                He fought the urge to just sleep in another alley way and eventually he found himself at his front door. He had no Idea what time it was, but he hadn't run into anyone on the street in a while and it was pitch dark .All the lights were still on in his house. He walked through the front door. His mother screamed.
                "Blaine! What is WRONG with you? You don't leave the house and just... DISSAPEAR this late at night! Why wasn't your phone on? Where the hell were you?" She stopped yelling long enough to take in Blaine's appearance. Blaine had no idea what he looked like, but he imagined it wasn't pristine. His father crossed his arms.
                "You've made your mother sick with worry, Blaine. Were you out fighting? Drinking? You're well underage, you know. I have half a mind to turn you in." He directed himself towards Blaine's mother. "Do you see why we can't let him take a year off school? Think of the trouble he'd get into! That's what boys this age do." Blaine's mother looked from her husband to Blaine, wringing her hands. She looked like she might want to hug Blaine, but she wouldn't. Mother never hugged.
                "I..." Blaine started. He was becoming more aware of how hot it was in here compared to outside. Pain ached through his entire body. "I... I was...I was..." He didn't know how to finish his sentence. Instead he pulled his phone out of his pocket and placed it on the small table by the door. His mother made a sharp intake of breath. His father looked furious.
                "We just BOUGHT you that phone!" He shouted.
                "Sorry" Blaine muttered, and he brushed past them and up the stairs to his room. He heard his mother crying and his father stomping down to the basement.

                Blaine stripped his clothes and shoved them all in the garbage can. He went to the bathroom and avoided looking at himself in the mirror while he ran a hot shower. He stood under the stream and stared at the cracks in the tiles on the opposite wall. He inspected his right arm, but aside from being really swollen, he didn't think it was actually broken. He was sure the bruises would be brilliant tomorrow. He tried to wash his hair, but winced as the soap touched the open skin on the side and the back of his head. He began to scrub the rest of himself. And srub. And scrub. And scrub. When his skin was pink and tender and swollen he finally stopped. He made himself turn the water off and get out. Exhaustion was taking over and he knew he wouldn't be able to stand up much longer. He toweled off and finally looked at himself in the mirror. The reflection disappointed him somewhat. It seemed almost...normal. Aside from a few scratches on his face and a small welt on the side of his head, which was mostly hidden by hair, he looked...fine. He should have been relieved, but instead he just felt more confused about the situation. It was like nothing had happened.
                He found his way back to his bed and tried to curl up in a ball, but everything hurt so he just lay in a pathetic semi-circle under his blankets. His wet hair soaked through his pillow and made his face feel sweatier than it was. He wanted to just cry. Crying would be the normal reaction to this. But he felt too empty still. He tried to force a few tears out in an attempt to make himself feel better, but it only resulted in his eyes gluing themselves shut as he lost himself in sleep.

                After a week of feeling useless and having his parents glaring at his back, he packed as much as he could carry into a bag and left for the bus station while his parents were at work. He left a note on the table: In NY. Will call when I can.

                Blaine sat on his bed still with his knees pulled up to his chest. He hadn't told the entire story to anyone. Just that he was bullied. That there was an incident that made him leave. But now, once he had started talking he couldn't stop. Something about Kurt just made him feel open. Although now he had probably jeopardized any chance of a shot he had with him. Blaine had just exposed the damaged, messed up person he was. And no one wants to date someone with problems. Kurt sat at the foot of the bed, never moving, staring at the cup in his hands. Blaine wanted him to just leave before he said something that would break his heart.
                "I brought coffee..." said Kurt finally.
                "I...I know", said Blaine, who just remembered the paper cup that was sitting on his bedside table. "Thank you". Kurt had changed the subject. Clearly this was all over.
                "No, I mean... I just brought coffee..." Kurt looked up and Blaine saw that his eyes were red. "I JUST brought you coffee...it seems so trivial now. This was so stupid. Blaine, I am so SO sorry. I never should have come here on Saturday. I never should have... I didn't...I didn't..." He shook his head and looked down at his hands again. "I'm so embarrassed, I just thought that..." He didn't finish his sentence.
                "I know," said Blaine..."'I thought', too. I wasn't expecting to have it hit me like that. It's not your fault. You didn't know."
                "But now I do," said Kurt.
                "Now you do," said Blaine. "I'll...I'll understand if you want to leave, or whatever."
                Kurt looked incredulously at him. Blaine wasn't sure how he should react.
                "Get up", said Kurt finally. Blaine hesitated, but Kurt was now standing by the door staring at him. He slowly stood up. "Get dressed. You better be downstairs in five minutes." And with that he left.
                Blaine stood stupidly in the middle of his room, still not really sure of what to do. Finally he threw some clothes on and grabbed the coffee from beside his bed. He took a sip as he tried to put an arm through his coat sleeve. It was ice cold. He left the coffee on the table as he buttoned up his coat and re-adjusted his scarf. Whatever Kurt wanted him to do certainly couldn't be worse that what he'd already been through.