“Remember to let her into your heart, and then you can start to make it better.” –Hey Jude; The Beatles

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Blaine stumbled back against the door and clutched his palm to his cheek. He stood, open mouthed and gawking at Jason with his back pressed firmly to the door. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and hit his head against the wood. His cheek was tingling and Blaine exhaled slowly through his nose. He heard Jason swear at himself under his breath and Blaine tried to relax. He didn’t want to get mad at Jason and he didn’t want Jason to get anymore mad at him.

“Fuck,” he heard Jason mumble. “Fuck!” he shouted again. Blaine opened his eyes to find Jason with his back against the wall opposite him and his head in his hands. Blaine stared at him until Jason met his gaze, his face expressionless. Jason, however, had nothing but anguish and repent in his eyes. For a long moment they just started at one another until Jason moved closer to him. They were inches apart before Blaine realised it and Jason was cupping his unscathed cheek in his hand.

“I’m sorry...” he whispered and Blaine nodded slightly. Jason dipped his head to meet Blaine’s lips but he placed his hand on Jason’s chest before he had the opportunity. “Please don’t do that.” He breathed. “Please don’t.” He repeated. Blaine couldn’t kiss him right now. He wasn’t sure he would remember how. Their intimacy had been put on hold for a long time and he was too confused to thinking about kissing Jason. Jason stepped back and Blaine pushed himself off the door and walked past his boyfriend.

He knew Jason was staring at him; he could feel it, but he kept walking until he reached the bathroom door. He shut it near silently behind him and studied his own reflection in the mirror. He looked tired and beaten down, both figuratively and literally. His eyes looked too deep inside his head and his stubble was growing too thick. Blaine traced his tongue over his lip where it split from his teeth clashing against the skin when Jason hit him. He took a deep breath and swallowed thickly.

Blaine glanced down at the sink and saw his razor sitting next to the tap. He rolled it back and forth between his fingers, contemplating using it for its intended purpose of shaving or trying something new. He wasn’t at the point of self-harm so he changed his mind and ran the blade under warm water. If he could do nothing else, he wanted to make his outward appearance nicer than how he felt on the inside. Blaine dragged the blade down his cheek and winced at how dull it was. He wanted to switch it out, use a sharper one but decided against it; if Jason felt like hitting him, he must be doing something wrong, and so what harm could a little more pain do? To him, it seemed like he deserved it though he wasn’t sure why. He gritted his teeth in pain but did his best to remain silent as he dragged the razor over his bruised skin.

Once he finished he looked back in the mirror. The improvement wasn’t vast but it was better than nothing. His bruised cheek was a dull shade of red, giving him what could be interpreted as a natural blush from afar. For a minute, Blaine just kept staring at his own reflection until he couldn’t take it any longer. He suddenly felt angry; betrayed; alone. He just wanted to feel something. Was that too much to ask? Just for him to get what he wanted for once? Blaine could hear Jason in the other room continuing to make dinner as if nothing had just happened. How could Jason just ignore what was right in front of them? Did he honestly think what he was doing was okay?

Blaine was thinking too hard and it was making him all the more upset. He could feel tears in forming in his eyes but he tried to hold them back. He didn’t want to be weak; he didn’t want to cry. Blaine placed his hands on either side of the sink and hung his head and tensed his muscles. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t. It was like there was music pounding in his ears that he wasn’t able to stop or tune out and before he could think about his actions, Blaine was slamming his fist into the bathroom mirror. He kept doing it until he saw a crack in the glass, felt the pieces dig into his knuckles. He bore his fist into his own reflection until his fingers went numb, until he was doing exactly what he didn’t want to; crying. Blaine couldn’t stop himself and couldn’t understand why as he stumbled back from the mirror, Kurt’s face came to his mind.

It wasn’t until he began to think of Kurt, in fact, that he looked down at his right hand. He was shaking and his skin was covered in blood. He wasn’t positive he would be able to move his fingers. Ample, sharp, reflective glass chunks protruded from his flesh and he felt terrified. Blaine snapped his head to the bathroom door, wondering how he could possibly leave the apartment without Jason seeing him. Disregarding the logistics, he patted the pocket of his jeans to check for his car keys, grasped the doorknob with his good hand and walked out of the bathroom.

At the sound, Jason stumbled out of the kitchen. “Blaine?” He shouted through the apartment. Blaine didn’t turn back to see him, just tried to make his way to the door. “Blaine, are you bleeding?” Jason asked, his fingers reaching for Blaine’s damaged hand but he pulled it away. He met Jason’s nervous gaze and just shied away. “I said don’t touch me!” he whimpered and they found themselves staring at each other again, this time with Blaine in tears. “I c... I can’t be here right now,” he choked out, knowing how weak he sounded, how afraid he looked. Without another word Blaine pulled the door open and walked away.

When he reached his car, he didn’t hesitate to let himself sob. His fingers were throbbing and all he wanted was to see Kurt. Blaine started his car with some difficulty, seeing as he was not left handed. When he got the ignition going he pulled out of parking lot and sped to Kurt’s apartment. It was only 8:37 so Blaine had serious faith that he would still be awake by the time he got there. Blaine slammed on the brakes when he arrived at Kurt’s apartment complex, doing a horrendous job of parking but not being able to bring himself to care. He slammed his car door shut and practically ran up the steps to Kurt’s door.

Blaine stopped before Kurt’s knocking to collect himself. He sniffled, wiped his eyes and took one more deep breath before pounding his left hand against the wood. On the other side, Kurt sat up suddenly from the couch. He placed a hand to his forehead and groaned before muting the TV and standing up slowly. How much wine had he drunk? What time was it? The rapping of someone’s hand was unrelenting and it was starting to irk him.

“Just a second!” He snapped at the sound. Kurt ran a hand through his hair and ignored the dull pain in his skull from the alcohol. “Jesus Christ,” Kurt mumbled under his breath before tearing the door open. “What the fuck do y—“ Kurt stopped himself in the midst of his sentence when he saw who was at the door.

“Blaine, oh my god, are you okay?” He asked even though he realised the answer was quite apparent. Blaine’s shoulders shook as he let out another quiet sob. “Okay, okay, come here, Blaine, come inside.” Kurt coaxed, placing his hand on Blaine’s back and guiding his into his apartment. Kurt led him to the couch where Blaine collapsed and shut his eyes. “Blaine, you’re bleeding.” He said stupidly and Blaine just pulled his hand away from Kurt’s line of sight.

“Do you want me to get you some water?” Kurt suggested, almost afraid of the man slumped on his couch. What happened to him? Kurt didn’t understand how Blaine went from perky and fun just a few hours prior to the state he was in now; shaking and crying with what Kurt though was a fresh mark on his face. “Yes please.” Blaine rasped and Kurt dashed to the kitchen, filling a glass and making his way back to Blaine. He handed him the glass and Blaine took in his better hand.

“What the hell happened?” Kurt demanded and Blaine winced. He didn’t answer, just sipped the water slowly. Kurt looked down at Blaine’s arms, raking his gaze down to where his bloodied knuckles rested on his thigh. “Stand up for a sec,” he instructed, softer this time, afraid that if he was too harsh Blaine would just crumple. Blaine obliged and Kurt took the wrist of his good hand and led him to his bathroom.

“Sit.” Kurt told him, motioning the edge of his bathtub. Blaine did as he was told, watching as Kurt fumbled through his medicine cabinet. He pulled out a first-aid kit and knelt down next to Blaine. Kurt offered his hand palm-up to Blaine and waited until Blaine placed his battered hand in his. “Fuck...” he mumbled when he got a better look at Blaine’s fingers. “What’d you do, get into a fight with a chainsaw?”

“Mirror, actually.”

Kurt smiled gently and began to wipe Blaine’s fingers clean with gauze. “Been there.” He remarked quietly as Blaine clenched and unclenched his left hand in pain. He hissed through his teeth sharply as Kurt brushed a shard of glass. “Sorry,” He murmured.

“What do you mean ‘been there’?” Blaine asked, confused as to what he meant by the comment. Kurt glanced up and him and continued to work gingerly at Blaine’s hand. “Nothing,” Blaine raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed. “Metaphorical fight with the mirror. I never actually hit it like you clearly have. I just...” he took a quiet breath. “I just hated myself in high school.” Blaine narrowed his eyes slightly and stared at the features of Kurt’s face. He was beautiful, truly.

“Wh—“ Blaine cut himself off with a groan when Kurt pulled out one of the largest of the glass shards. A fresh stream of blood began to flow from his hand and swore under his breath. “Why?” he clarified. Kurt bit the inside of his lip before speaking. “Blaine, as much as I would love to recount old high school memories with you, I don’t feel like making myself upset right now.”

Blaine couldn’t help his mind from wondering to what Kurt wasn’t saying. He tried his hardest, but he couldn’t bring himself to picture someone beating Kurt up or treating him like anything less than royalty. Perhaps it was only because he knew this side of him; the strong-willed, self-assured side of Kurt. Blaine was almost positive there was a side of him that he didn’t show people too often and he imagined stories from high school were included in that.

“I think I got the worst of it.” Kurt proclaimed, turning on the tap for Blaine to rinse his hand under. The water ran scarlet and it stung and burned but held his hand under until the water ran clear. Kurt patted his knuckles dry softly with a towel and wrapped his cuts with gauze. Experimentally, Blaine flexed and relaxed his fingers to test the security of the dressing.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Blaine asked and Kurt smirked. “A magician never tells their secrets, Blaine.” He returned with a wink. Kurt walked over to his couch and turned off the still-muted television. He sat down and stared at Blaine with expectance, waiting for him to do the same. He took the hint and sat down next to him stiffly, awkwardly. Blaine felt like a child waiting to be scolded by a parent or a student being sent to the principal’s office.

“Is there something you wanna tell me, Blaine?” Kurt asked, not demanding or angry but patient. Blaine rested his hands on his knees, tracing his fingers up and down the seam of his pants. He knew Kurt was staring, waiting for an explanation he wasn’t ready to give. “Is Jason doing this?” Kurt questioned after Blaine’s irresponsiveness. “Does he hit you, Blaine?” He accused.

Something stirred in Blaine’s stomach, something that felt remarkably like anger and he stood up suddenly. “Of course not!” He denied but Kurt’s calm demeanour didn’t falter. “He loves me, Kurt, Jason would never do that.” He lied. After he said it, Blaine thought for a moment. In the end, he wasn’t lying to Kurt with what he was saying rather than lying to himself. What he was shouting at Kurt was what he was trying to convince himself. Blaine truly just wanted to be reminded that he was loved.

“Blaine, just sit back down.” Kurt said composedly. Blaine ran his un-bandaged hand through his hair and slumped down against the cushions. “Listen...” Kurt began and Blaine turned his head to him. He felt pressure against the back of his eyes but he blinked repeatedly until it disintegrated. “Blaine, you’ve gotta let somebody in eventually. And it doesn’t have to be me. But whatever this is,” Kurt gestured to the mark on his cheek, the cuts on his fingers. “If you don’t let somebody help you, it’s going to smother you.” Blaine could feel his lip quiver slightly so he bit down against it, splitting the thin scab that had formed and tasting blood on his tongue.

“Kurt I want to tell you so badly,” he whimpered, giving up on resisting his tears. “I just don’t know how.” Blaine’s chest heaved with a sob and he slouched so his elbows were on his knees, forehead in his palms and Kurt stroked his hand up and down Blaine’s back comfortingly.

“Hey, it’s all right,” he eased. “You’re allowed to cry Blaine, I swear. I’ve done enough of it in my day to know it can really help sometimes.” Blaine chuckled slightly and wiped his cheeks. He sat up straight and they found themselves staring at each other again. Kurt’s bright eyes were shimmering in the low light and Blaine’s glinted with his remaining tears. Though he couldn’t explain why, to himself nor to anyone else, Blaine found himself leaning in closer to Kurt’s face. Their thighs were touching from how close they were seated on the couch and before either of them knew it; their lips were against one another’s.

Kurt hummed softly at the contact; both in surprise and in delight and Blaine pressed his lips just a tiny bit firmer to Kurt’s. Just as he was building up the courage to brush his tongue over Kurt’s soft lips, they were pulling apart. Kurt inhaled slowly through his nose and Blaine let out all the breath from his lungs in one swift sigh. Kurt could feel his cheeks burning and Blaine studied the floor quite intently.

“Well I can’t say I was expecting that.” Kurt said breathily after a long moment of silence and Blaine nodded. “Me neither.” Their eyes flicked towards each other’s quickly before darting away, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward than it already was. “So I take it you’re sleeping here?” Kurt asked, hoping to change the subject. “That was the plan,” Blaine confirmed.

“Well, lucky for you I just happen to have a spare bedroom.” Blaine smiled and followed Kurt to where the door was. It was a small room, what was probably intended to be an office but was converted into a guest room. There was a low double bed in one corner with a lamp and a table adjacent, a dresser in another corner. “I would tell you to ‘make yourself at home’ but it doesn’t seem like you’ve brought anything with you.” Kurt pointed out and Blaine shrugged. “No offence, but a sleepover wasn’t exactly on my calendar for this evening.” Kurt smiled though Blaine’s tone was serious.

“You’re more than welcome to borrow a pair of sweats to sleep in,” Kurt offered and Blaine just nodded slightly. It was clear that Blaine wasn’t in a mood to be joked around with like he was a few hours ago. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe to Kurt’s guest room with his tender hand tucked carefully into the pocket of his jeans. He looked small and afraid, like Kurt remembered feeling when his mother had passed away. It was something he hadn’t been able to shake or forget; feeling just so helpless and lost. Kurt wondered, assumed even, that that was the position Blaine was in right now.

Once he realised he had been staring for too long, Kurt turned away and grabbed a pair of pants for Blaine to sleep in. He pulled them out of his dresser and handed them to Blaine.

“Thanks,” he mumbled and pushed himself off of the doorframe to change. Blaine shut the door behind him quietly and listened to Kurt sigh and walk in a different direction. Blaine sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling abnormally robotic as he stripped himself of his jeans and socks, discarding them to the floor and pulling the sweat pants on in their place. Blaine shrugged off his button-down shirt but still clad the black tank top he had on underneath. He pushed his clothes against the wall closest the bed and opened his door again to say good night. He flicked off the light and turned to his bed.

When Blaine crawled under the covers and shut his eyes, he wished his mind would’ve followed suit and shut itself off as well. His thoughts were racing with memories of meeting Jason, meeting Kurt, aspects of his childhood that he always dreaded the memory of. For long minutes he just stared into the darkness, wondering what the point of closing his eyes was if he wasn’t going to fall asleep. Blaine traced the fingers of his left hand over the bandaging on his right and smiled just slightly to himself.

On the other side of his door, Kurt knocked gently before stepping inside. “Hey,” Blaine whispered through the dark. “Hey.” Kurt replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. There was enough light filtering in through the window to illuminate Kurt’s face though the shadows were deep and made him look as if he were telling a ghost story with a flashlight to his face.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt mumbled. They spoke quietly, as if there was a third person in the room with them that was sleeping. “For what?” Blaine whispered back. “Just for whatever it is that’s going on.” He answered softly. Kurt heard the sheets rumple as Blaine sat up. They met each other’s eyes again before Blaine began to pick at the comforter.

“You know you can tell me anything, Blaine.” Kurt confessed, hoping to assure him that there would be neither judgment nor any disclosure of their conversations to anyone else. “I know.” Blaine said. Kurt licked his dry lips before posing his next question.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

Blaine scoffed quietly at himself. “I just... I was really angry. I’m still really angry, not at you, but at what’s going on right now a-and you were just there and I had to do something because I didn’t know what to say and kissing you was the first thing that came to mind. I—Kurt I’m sorry if that was wrong.” There were a few beats of silence while Kurt thought about Blaine’s answer.

“Blaine, why did you kiss me?” He asked again and Blaine took a deep breath.

“Because I wanted to.” He answered honestly this time and Kurt smirked. “Can I do it again?” Blaine asked but Kurt shook his head. “No.” Kurt watched Blaine squeeze his eyes shut firmly, clearly feeling guilty because of his actions. He wanted to assure Kurt that it was fine, that he wasn’t mad at him for kissing him but he didn’t know how to say it without sounding like he wanted to go further.

He stood up and Blaine turned his head to look at him. “Come on,” he motioned his head to the bedroom door. “It’s like, 9:00. Do you wanna eat ice cream and watch 13 Going on 30 or would you rather sit here and brood?” Though he chuckled at the statement and did indeed agree with Kurt’s suggestion, Blaine wasn’t sure why he felt tears well in his eyes at the statement.

“Where were you in high school?” He asked weakly and Kurt smiled gently at him, walking to his fridge to grab his container of vanilla ice cream and two spoons before curling up on his couch next to his friend and hoping that, if even for a moment, he was making Blaine feel safe.