“People aren't either wicked or noble. They're like chef's salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict.” –Lemony Snicket

--

It was a warm day in July the day it happened, and maybe everyone noticed. He wasn't entirely sure how it happened. He remembered yelling. Lots of it. He remembered anger pulsing inside of him. He remembered Jason walking closer to him, eyes burning and a sick crack of the palm of his hand connecting with the side of Blaine's face.

Blaine tried to shake the memories from his head as he walked through the park. It was a nice day, 80 something degrees with clear skies and a cooling breeze. He didn't want to think too hard about why it had happened. He mostly just wanted the memories and the ghost of pain to leave. Blaine wanted to go back to his apartment in Westerville and find his boyfriend there, maybe watching TV.

Jason always stayed at their apartment during the weekends. He said it was "his time to relax. I do all the work, you know." Blaine grimaced. He had perfectly respectable, well-paying job. He worked as a reporter for a local newspaper, while Jason was a dentist. As Blaine continued his walk through the park, he wondered if this was a common occurrence if, maybe, he wasn't the only one who had a nice boyfriend with occasional violent tendencies.

Was it enough to be called occasional?

It was only the second time Blaine had ever been hit by Jason. The first, being during sex. They were experimenting, exploring each other. Blaine had screamed just a little too loudly and Jason's hand collided with his ass a few times. Was that really abuse? Or just exploring a kink? (Blaine did not find it nearly half as pleasurable as Jason, however.) But the second time, just earlier that afternoon that one counted. Still, Blaine didn't want to call it "abuse." He wanted a different word, a different phrase, a different anything just to keep that open handed slap to his face from being categorised as abuse.

Blaine shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kept walking. The mark on his cheek was barely there, but it felt as though it was the most prominent feature about him. As if everyone passing him knew that just earlier he was slapped by his boyfriend. It wasn't a particularly endearing thought. Domestic violence seemed only an act in fiction, but still, Blaine wasn't ready to call it that yet. He hadn't overanalysed it enough yet to draw a better conclusion.

Maybe Jason was trying some kind of role play that Blaine hadn’t gotten the memo for? A slave/master type of thing? Blaine wasn't very fond of that idea, either. He'd rather sex be an act of love, not dominance or for sport, but maybe he was just old fashioned. No one really cared too much for romance lately.

He thought about his and Jason's relationship leading up until this afternoon. They'd met during Blaine's first semester in college. Jason was stunning; short, jet black hair and fierce blue eyes. He was about 5 or 6 inches taller than Blaine and almost always wore some type of designer clothing. Anniversaries had been generally celebrated with Blaine's instigation. He had been the one to take Jason out for dinner or something along those lines.

Blaine sighed and slowed his pace as he neared a small footbridge at the edge of the park. He walked to the edge, leaning his arms on the banister and looking into the small creek running under the bridge. He checked his watch; 5:36. He would have to be heading home soon. Jason was probably wondering where he was, or at least, Blaine hoped he was wondering. Throughout four years of dating Jason, Blaine had never felt more disconnected from him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, only half-focussing on the weak jolt of pain this caused his left cheek, and turned back around to make his way to his car. He pulled out his phone and typed out a short "Be home soon." to Jason. He debated whether or not he should write "babe" at the end, or maybe a happy face or even a heart, but decided against it.

Blaine found his car and climbed inside, putting the key in the ignition but not bothering to start it. Should he and Jason talk about what happened? Or should he just let it go? It wasn't worth dwelling on for too long. Blaine would probably end up convincing himself of something terrible, when it was probably nothing to worry about.

Still, the images flashed across his mind. There wasn't the slightest hint of remorse is Jason's eyes after he hit Blaine. Blaine combed his fingers through his short curly hair. Whatever. He'd figure it out later.

Just as Blaine turned the key to start his car, a boy, a man, rather, went jogging past him on the sidewalk. He was... Beautiful; about Blaine's height, maybe an inch taller at the most, with short brown hair. He seemed to be changing a song on his iPod and as Blaine kept staring, the man didn't seem to be paying attention to where he was running. An uneven paving stone in the sidewalk caught his foot and sent him spiralling to the ground. Blaine sat for a minute, just sort of staring at the man on the ground. He was pushing himself back up, pulling his headphones out of his ears and inspecting the damage done to the palms of his hands. Blaine stepped out of his car and walked quickly over to the fallen jogger.

"Hey," Blaine said, kneeling down to be closer to him. "Are you all right?" The man looked up at him and nodded once.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." He said, shaking his hands a few times in an attempt to alleviate the pain. He seemed to be staring at Blaine's face. "Are you?"

"I'm sorry?" Blaine replied, taken aback.

"I mean, it just kinda looks like you got punched, or something." Blaine just kind of stared, his hand self consciously rising up to his cheek. He hoped he didn't wince too obviously as his fingers brushed the tender skin. "Sorry." The man said, sensing Blaine's apparent tenseness. "I-I'm Kurt."

The man offered his hand better hand to Blaine. It took him a few seconds to put two and two together and to understand that he was meant to shake this man, Kurt's, hand.

"Blaine." He said pointedly, taking Kurt's hand gently in his and shaking it. Blaine stood up fully and offered the same hand down to help Kurt to his feet.

"Well, thank you, Blaine." Kurt said and chuckled lightly. Blaine smiled and Kurt tucked his iPod safely into the pocket of his hoodie. "So, what exactly did happen? To your face, I mean."

"O-oh," Blaine stuttered. "I... I tripped." He said awkwardly.

"You tripped... On your face?" Kurt replied incredulously
.
"Uh... Yeah, I guess." Blaine shook his head slightly and grimaced at the horrible excuse. Kurt just nodded. "Do you come here a lot?" He asked, seeming to try to change the subject for Blaine's sake.

"Hmm?" God, he was out of it.

"Here. Like, to the park."

"Oh. Yeah. No. N-not really." Blaine said, stumbling over his words. He wasn't sure when talking became an incredibly difficult feat.

"Yeah, no?" Kurt teased and Blaine chuckled awkwardly.
"No. No, I don't." He said, giving a more definitive answer. "Do you?"

"Uh, yeah, actually. Pretty much every day, if I have the chance." Kurt said, shifting his weight to his other foot. "I, you know, jog." Blaine nodded. God, this was awkward. "Right." Blaine said. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he quietly thanked whatever God people believe in.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

Jason.

"I-I'm coming home soon, I was just leaving, but I..." Blaine turned to Kurt and Kurt smiled. "I got distracted."

"'Kay. Get back soon." His voice sounded cold, but Blaine ignored it.

"I will. See you soon." The line cut off without so much as goodbye, but Blaine let it go. Kurt raised an eyebrow at him.

"Who was that?" He asked.

"That? Oh, that was Jason." Blaine said slowly. "My, uh... He’s my boyfriend." Kurt's lips curled into a smirk at the word boyfriend. "What?" Kurt shook his head but his smirk grew wider.

"Nothin'. It sounds like you’d better be going, though. I've heard that tone before, and it's not a nice one." Blaine smiled and put his phone away.

"Well, uh, nice meeting you." He said and Kurt smiled back.

"Maybe we can hang out some time. You know, sometime when you have a better excuse than 'falling on your face.'" Kurt teased with a wink and Blaine felt a light blush creeping up his cheeks. He liked this guy. A lot.

"Sounds like a plan." Blaine replied. "But, I think I already mentioned that I don't come here. Like, ever." Kurt rolled his eyes. "You know, they invented this thing called a phone. You can like, talk to people without actually seeing them. It’s pretty handy. You should look in to them." Kurt said with a wink. Blaine rolled his eyes right back. "This is my number," Kurt pulled out a card from his wallet. "Use it wisely."

Blaine looked at the card.

Kurt Hummel - Interior Designer

How horribly clich�.

"Would you like mine, so you don't think a stranger is calling you?" Blaine asked, and Kurt grinned. "Sure," He said with a chuckle and Blaine pulled his business card from his wallet. Kurt looked at it and raised an eyebrow at Blaine.

"A journalist? Really?" Kurt asked, his voice intrigued, and not condescending like most people's. Blaine nodded.

"Not what you were expecting?"

"Wouldn't have been my first guess," Kurt flicked his wrist to look at his watch. "I better get going. It's almost six, and I have to be home soon." Blaine checked his phone; it was 5:54 and he should have left 15 minutes ago. If his relationship with Jason was heading where he really hoped it wasn't, he should leave too. "Yeah, I'd better be getting home too." Blaine sighed. He took one final look at Kurt before saying goodbye and getting back in his car. Blaine couldn't help but smile a little too brightly before turning his car back on, and as he readjusted the rearview mirror, he caught sight of his own reflection.

Kurt wasn't kidding.

There was an obvious bruise on his cheek that had formed, with purpling marks where Jason's fingers had met his flesh and a distinctive mark from a ring Blaine had given him for one of their anniversaries. Jason must have hit him harder than he had remembered. Blaine brought his hand to his cheek slowly and grazed his fingers over the bruised flesh. He winced and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, the skin too tender to touch. Blaine shook his head and exhaled trying to calm his nerves. He set his mirror back, turned on his car and pulled out of the parking lot.

When Blaine pulled up to his apartment building and parked in his spot, it took him a few minutes to build up the courage to get out of the car. Should he say something about what happened? Would Jason hit him again? Should he just let it go? Couldn’t he just drive off and not come back? He sighed again and turned off the ignition and stepped out of his car. He walked up the stairs to his apartment and could hear music from the other side of his door.

Blaine knocked once to announce his arrival before turning the knob and stepping inside. He dropped his car keys on the table next to the door and walked into their small kitchen. Jason was leaning against the countertop drinking a beer and watching whatever was on the stovetop. Jason saw him and beamed at him. He set the beer bottle down and waltzed over to Blaine’s side. “Hey babe,” he said, pressing a kiss to Blaine’s unmarked cheek. Blaine couldn’t help but smile at him and turn to capture his lips. Jason kissed him back before pulling away and really looking at Blaine’s face. It was almost like he didn’t see the blatant purple mark on his cheek because without so much as a concerned or apologetic look, he turned back around and continued to make dinner.

Blaine shook his head a little and pretended not to notice the heavy feeling in his chest. “What’s for dinner?” he asked instead. Jason glanced over his shoulder before answering. “It’s just pasta,” he answered, flicking the burner off and straining the pasta into the sink. Blaine took out two plates and set them on their table. He sat down just as Jason came over carrying the bowl with pasta in it and cutlery.

“Do you want some wine or something?” He asked and Blaine nodded. Jason uncorked the bottle and poured Blaine a glass before setting it in front of him. “You’re not having any?” Blaine asked, noticing that his was the only glass on the table. Jason shook his head.

“No. I’m not really in the mood.” Blaine just nodded. He wasn’t really sure what to say and he had seemed to have lost his appetite. They ate mostly in silence, Blaine occasionally looking up at Jason to find him staring at his face, his focus drawn heavily to Blaine’s cheek. His gaze made Blaine feel uneasy, as if a whole room of people were staring at him as opposed to his boyfriend of four years whom Blaine loved more than anything else. Blaine rose from his chair with his plate, offering a hand out to take Jason’s. He walked over to the sink and rinsed them both just as he felt arms slide around his waist.

Jason’s chin rested on Blaine’s shoulder and Blaine turned off the water, feeling lips connect with his neck. Jason sucked slowly on his skin and Blaine smiled slightly. Maybe he did still care and it was all just a misunderstanding. Jason’s arms tightened and Blaine gasped suddenly as Jason started biting his neck, grabbing Blaine’s hips so they were face-to-face. Suddenly their height difference seemed foreboding and Blaine’s heart began to pound in an entirely new way. It was almost like fear, fear that Jason might hit him again and Blaine’s heart thrashed against his chest and his lungs felt empty. Jason was staring at him, hands on the counter on either side of Blaine. Jason’s cologne was overpowering and Blaine felt like he couldn’t breathe. As if suddenly regaining his composure, Jason exhaled slowly and pressed a kiss against Blaine’s bruise cheek. He pressed his lips much too hard against the tender flesh and Blaine nearly felt like crying but he didn’t.

And just like that, as quickly as the moment had happened it ended. Jason was off of Blaine and pulling on his jacket. He shut the apartment door too loudly and he was gone. Blaine slammed his fist into the countertop and exhaled. His breath soon became an aggravated shout and he put his head in his hands. What the hell was going on? Was it something he did? Something he didn’t do?

Blaine walked over to the door where he put down his cell phone, tempted to phone Jason but too afraid at the same time. He unlocked it and found a text from an unregistered number. “Kurt,” Blaine whispered to himself.

“Hey sunshine :).” His text read. Blaine couldn’t help but smile. Something about Kurt made him happy, regardless of the fact they had known each other for less than a day. He wanted to see him again and get to know him. He wasn’t exactly sure how to reply to his text, so he just closed it but saved Kurt’s number to his contacts.

Blaine sat down on the couch, turning on the TV and flicking through the channels half-heartedly. Part of him wanted Jason to walk through the door with a dozen roses and an apology fit for a king and another part of him didn’t ever want to see him again. He stopped on a channel playing the end of West Side Story and just sort of passed out for a few hours.

--

When Blaine woke up again, it was to the sound of the apartment door being opened. He sat up slowly, looking over the back of the couch to see what it was. Blaine turned off the TV and stood up; straightening out his shirt and flicking his wrist to check the time on his wristwatch; 10: 47. Jason looked at him and for a few seconds they just sort of stared at each other before Jason stalked off to their bedroom. Blaine was about ninety-nine percent positive that Jason was drunk. Once Blaine was sure he’d heard their bedroom door close, he made his way over to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and giving one more, long look at his bruised reflection in the mirror, he sighed and padded over to his and Jason’s bedroom. He cracked the door open slowly and saw Jason lying on his side facing away from him. Blaine took off his clothes and changed into a white tank top with a pair of boxers before climbing into bed and shutting his eyes as tightly as possible.

They were about as separate as they could be without one of them sleeping on the floor, and it made Blaine’s heart feel heavy. Almost every night they would fall asleep in the arms of one another, usually kissing or laughing or something equally as enjoyable. But tonight it was just cold, unpleasant silence. Blaine felt tears prick at his eyes and he pulled the covers around himself but refused to let himself cry.