Chapter Text
July 13, 2002
It starts with a fight over a stupid game in the mall.
"Dad, please!" Blaine begs as he pulls back on his father's hand, trying to drag him back to the claw machine. "I just want to get the yellow elephant Dad. I promise not to waste your money. I'll get it on the first try, Dad. I'm really good!"
Dad's voice is tired and irritated as he continues to pull Blaine along, past the other shoppers who by now are starting to stare.
"Blaine, for the last time we are going to be late for Connor's party if you keep carrying on this way. Hurry up!"
This is so grossly unfair that Blaine can hardly stand it. His life is not going to be the same without the yellow elephant in it, and no one even cares. He lets out a tremulous wail, just to be sure his father knows how terrible he's being.
His father spins round to face him and bends over so they are eye level as he hisses,
"Young man that is enough. You are far too old to acting like a two-year-old and if you want to prove to me that you're big enough to handle that bike you've been asking about, you'd better smarten up. Do you understand?"
Blaine is a little stunned, because his dad never loses his patience or gets mad at him. The tears dry on his cheeks as he nods his head slowly.
"Fine," His dad says, nodding brusquely before he straightens out and turns around, heading to the toy store and Connor's present. "Let's get going."
Soon his dad is talking to the salesman about whether the stuff in the chemistry set is edible while Blaine wanders away to go look at the remote-controlled helicopters. He feels a hand reach out and lightly touch his shoulder. Blaine looks up to see a man he's never seen before, smiling at him like he knows him.
"Hello Blaine," he says. "I hear you like elephants."
Blaine wrinkles his nose at him, because he's not supposed to talk to strangers. He says nothing. The man laughs, quietly.
"Your dad was telling me," he says, pointing in his father's direction. Blaine relaxes a little. If the man is one of Dad's friends, then it's okay to talk to him.
"I love the yellow elephant." He admits, wistfully. "I really need to have it."
"Tell you what," The man says. "Why don't I tell your dad where you'll be and I'll take you to get your elephant."
Blaine shakes his head.
"I can't," he says. "I have to go to Connor's birthday party. We're late already."
The man nods, solemnly.
"Do you know where Connor lives?" he asks.
"Down the road," Blaine says. "You can see his house from here."
The man's face lights up.
"Perfect!" He says. "Your dad told me how much you wanted the elephant, and he said that if you needed it so badly, all you had to do was go back to the claw machine and ask me for it. So while the kids are all playing at Connor's, why don't you tell someone you're going to the bathroom, and then sneak out and walk back here? I'll meet you at the game and together we'll get your toy. Your dad said I could drive you back to Connor's after so you don't miss cake."
Something about this sounds a little off to Blaine.
"If I'm allowed to come back here, why do I have to sneak out?"
The man ruffles his hair.
"It's a little rude to sneak away in the middle of someone's birthday party, sport," he says. "Your dad said it was okay this once because someone could take your elephant while you're away, but it's still not very polite. We don't want Connor to get his feelings hurt, do we?"
***
Blaine waits until everyone is playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey. He asks Connor's mom where the bathroom is and she takes him to it before heading back to supervise. The bathroom is right next to the back door.
The man is waiting by the elephant when Blaine comes back, a stack of money in his hands.
"Blaine!" He says, grabbing the boy in a one-shouldered hug. "You made it!"
He hands Blaine the first dollar bill.
"Let's get you an elephant."
Blaine does not win the elephant on the first try. It takes them almost ten dollars before the little elephant is successfully secured by the claw and dropped into the bin, but the man, Tom, is laughing and holding his hands over Blaine's to help him drop the claw at the exact right second, so he doesn't seem to mind it too much.
"That was sure fun, wasn't it?" Tom says as he leads Blaine out into the parking lot towards a car with a backseat Blaine has to crawl into.
"Yeah!" Blaine agrees, happily. "Thanks Tom!"
"Any time," Tom says, as they pull out of the parking lot and onto the road. But something is wrong.
"Connor's house is the other way," Blaine says, feeling nervous again. Tom is looking at him really hard in the mirror and the look on his face is scary in a way Blaine can't quite figure out, but the voice is bright enough when Tom says,
"Got a call from Connor's mom while you were winning the toy. You kids are going swimming! I told her we'd meet up with them at the pool."
"I don't have my swimsuit," Blaine says, horrified because if he doesn't get to go swimming with his friends it will be the worst thing that has ever happened to him.
"Your dad is going to bring it and meet us there," Tom promises, so Blaine settles back into his seat and snuggles happily with the elephant.
They drive for a long, long time and by the time that they stop Blaine is so tired he's forgotten all about swimming.
***
"Can I go home yet, Tom?"
"Not yet, buddy. Your mom and dad want you to stay with me a few more days."
Blaine has been at Tom's home for a week. It's not very much fun anymore. Tom has a lot of cool stuff to do there, lots of video games and colouring books and toys, but everything is lonely and too quiet. It's a little house far away from the road and with no neighbours anywhere. Tom says that sometimes it gets a little boring with no one there, which is why he has so much cool stuff lying around. So he has something to do.
"It's a lot more fun when there's a friend around," he adds, smiling at Blaine.
But Blaine is getting tired of all the quiet. Tom is great, but sort of weird too. He likes tickle fights a lot, and so does Blaine, but sometimes Tom grabs in strange places by accident and it makes Blaine feel creepy. He also keeps all the doors and windows locked tight with all the shades drawn so they don't get robbed, but Blaine never sees any keys anywhere, and nothing unlocks from the inside. It seems stupid to Blaine to build a house you can get into but not out of.
"I really think I need to go," he finally says to Tom one evening. "I like you a lot, but my mom and dad are probably sad because they miss me by now."
"Oh buddy," Tom says, suddenly looking very sad in a way that makes Blaine's heart skip beats. He's going to hear something scary, and he knows it, he just doesn't know what. Tom pulls him onto his lap.
"I didn't want to have to tell you this so soon," he says, petting Blaine's head a little as he talks. "But do you remember the fight you were having with your dad about Horton?"
"My elephant?" Blaine says, confused about what that has to do with anything.
"Your parents have been very disappointed in you lately Blaine," Tom says. "They told me that you were a rude, ungrateful, bad little boy. They were going to give you away, but decided that to be fair you should get one more chance to listen to them and prove that you were good enough. Horton was a test for you, Blaine."
Blaine is so, so scared. He feels his entire body shake as he listens to Tom speak. This isn't fair. If you're taking a test, people should tell you first.
"I didn't want to do it, Blaine," Tom is saying. "But your parents told me that if I didn't help, they'd just get a stranger to do it for them, and I didn't want you to end up with a stranger. What if they didn't want you either? What would happen to you then?"
"What was the test?" Blaine asks, feeling his throat close up a little.
"You were supposed to leave Horton behind," Tom says, wiping away the tears that Blaine hadn't even noticed falling down his cheeks. "But you didn't. You decided that a toy was more important than your parents, Blaine. So they decided that they had other things more important than you. They don't want you anymore. I'm so sorry."
Blaine is sobbing loudly now. He's never been so scared, so alone as he is right now. He never knew his heart could hurt as much as it's hurting right now. Tom grabs him up and holds him in a tight hug, muttering soothing sounds and rubbing his hand in slow careful circles, low on his back.
"It's okay, Blaine," he says. "It's okay. It's sad for now, but you're so lucky I'm here. Most people don't want a kid whose parents don't love them anymore, and they're alone forever. But I'll look after you Blaine. I'll be your new dad. All you have to do is do what I tell you and I'll never let you be alone. I'll always love you, okay? You don't need your old family anymore. I'm right here."
He kisses Blaine lightly on the side of the neck and something about the way it feels makes Blaine's insides turn to ice. He wants to get up and run as far away as he can, but this house has been built to get into and not out of. And besides, Tom is all there is now. If Blaine doesn't want to be alone forever, he'll have to get used to staying with the only person who is kind enough to keep him.
***
October 4, 2010
Blaine is so used to hearing his father's speech every time he sits in the principal's office at a new school, he can almost recite it with him. On average, he changes schools 2 times a year. He worked it out one time as they were driving out of yet another state, Dad looking surly as he muttered to himself about people being too damn nosy for their own good. It's pretty much the way they always leave a town or state, only slightly louder because it was suddenly decided that they needed to leave 3 weeks ahead of schedule. Dad's always been pretty paranoid about people taking too much interest in Blaine.
"People find out that I'm not your legal guardian and we're both screwed," Dad says whenever they settle into a new place. "They'd throw my ass in jail and yours into foster care. God knows how that would go for you. Do you know what happens to the kids no one likes in foster care, Blaine?"
Blaine is always tempted to say, "It can't be any worse than what happens with you" but he never does. As awful as his father is, he's really all Blaine's got, and it's not like he makes Blaine live in poverty or anything. Blaine always gets whatever he wants from Dad. Sometimes he doesn't even have to ask first. Kids at school are always jealous of him and, okay, maybe he's a little spoiled, but Blaine has never been too concerned about friends. He doesn't care what other people think about him.
"For God's sake, Blaine, pull your shirt down," Dad snaps.
Blaine glances down and quickly tugs the sleeve back over his wrist, hiding the bruises just as the principal walks in. Dad stands up and shakes his hand warmly. Blaine pretends not to notice when it is extended in turn towards himself, instead smiling faintly and muttering a little, "Hi." He can feel Dad stiffen in disapproval next to him, but the principal, Figgins according to the name plate on the desk, doesn't seem to notice or care.
"Mr. Brenner, it's wonderful to meet you," he says with a pronounced Indian accent. "And this must be Francis."
"It's Blaine," Blaine says, unable to stop the scowl that settles on his features.
Dad laughs good-naturedly. "Apparently only girls are called Francis, so he's going through a phase where he insists on going by his middle name."
"Oh, but Francis," Figgins looks a little scandalized as he sits heavily in his seat behind the desk. "You should never be ashamed of your name. It's part of who you are. I remember when I was a boy I had the same name as another boy in my class who used to wet his pants! Oh, how I begged my mother to let me change my name to escape the mockery of the other students, but she just told me 'Jeevan, you must carry your name with pride. It is a sign of respect for the ones who named you."
Blaine looks back at the name plate in confusion.
"Your name is Paul," he says.
Principal Figgins shrugs.
"I converted," he says. "And none of my pastors could pronounce my name. There was nothing else I could do."
Figgins looks down to Blaine's rather stuffed file on his desk and checks his notes.
"Now Francis," he says, and Blaine grits his teeth. "I see here that you have some behavioural problems. That's disappointing."
"We move around a lot," Dad speaks up, and Blaine thinks, Here we go. "Blaine's never fully socialized properly. He has trouble making friends. Sometimes he doesn't make very good decisions."
"Well that's putting it a little mildly," Figgins says as he reads his notes and makes tsking noises. "Francis, it says here that you have been caught drinking on school property. Drinking alcohol. That certainly will not be permitted at McKinley High."
"He won't be doing any of that," Dad assures, even though he looks a little like he wants to laugh instead. "Blaine has been doing much better with his behaviour lately, though sometimes he still has issues being completely honest. He likes to make up stories, cause scenes. Standard rebellious teenager stuff."
Figgins shakes his head and looks at Blaine sadly.
"That really is too bad. Maybe Francis would do better if he got involved with the student body right away, so he didn't feel the need to resort to lies to impress the other children. What are your feelings about show choir, Francis? Maybe you'd like to join the New Directions!"
"The what?" Blaine asks, because he can't have heard that correctly.
"The New Directions," Figgins repeats, smilingly. "They are our school glee club. I don't know how good they are exactly, but they win enough competitions to keep me from shutting them down and redistributing their funding. They seem to attract a rather large cross-section of social misfits and deviants, so that could be fun for you. Does that seem like the sort of thing you could be interested in?"
"Show choir or the large cross-section of social misfits and deviants?" Blaine asks.
"Oh whichever you like," Figgins says, earnestly. "Just so long as we can get you connected."
"Can I go see my locker now?" Blaine finally asks, after a long pause where he tries to find an appropriate response for the insane man in front of him and comes up with nothing.
Blaine is always careful to adjust his scholastic performance with each new school he goes to. He strives to be in the middle of the class; not too smart, not too stupid. He prefers to be comfortably invisible because he finds life is easier when you're average. He's been attending McKinley for all of half an hour and already he has the sneaking suspicion that average here will be a new low for him.
***
The girl who shows him to his locker is wearing a red and white cheerleading uniform. She walks slowly, texting and laughing as she ambles down the hallways. She hasn't said a single word to him, or even looked his direction. He could be attacked by mutant mosquito carnivores and he doubts she would notice.
It doesn't take long before she stops walking entirely, leaning against a row of lockers as she texts at lightning speed. Blaine stands and watches her for almost three minutes before he finally gives up and asks,
"So... is one of these lockers mine?"
The look he has levelled at him is one of utter disgust.
"Look freak," the girl says, putting a hand on her hips. "Do you have any idea who I am? I am a Cheerio, alright? And maybe I am just a freshman who is being forced to do this by Coach before I earn the right to touch a pompom but you know what I've already earned? This uniform. And the right not to be sexually harassed by little loser perve balls like you. God."
"You've got to be kidding me," Blaine says, because this is a bit much. Even from a cheerleader.
"Oh, so now you're questioning me?" The girl demands and, seriously?
He's trying to decide whether he should just give up and skip class now or wander the halls until a teacher notices and takes pity on him when he hears a high laugh from behind him.
"It's cute how you pretend the Cheerios probation period lasts longer than two weeks," says a voice as high as the laugh. "You and I both know that if you were going to get anywhere near a cheering routine it would have happened by now. Face it, Charity. You're just Sue Sylvester's water boy. You're nothing."
The voice belongs to a boy who seems to have been coming out of one of the bathrooms. Blaine has no idea what he was doing in there – he's holding a large plastic bag, and his hair is slightly damp – but the kid oozes confidence, and the smirk he's directing to the girl – Charity – is scathing.
Charity is fuming.
"I'm still worth more at this school than you'll ever be," she snaps. "You stupid gay freak. Go sing a show tune, Hummel."
The boy laughs again.
"You may rank higher than me on the social ladder at this school," he says. "But with the woman with the power to make you do herkies until you black out? She likes me more than you. And that's after I bailed on her squad."
Charity stares at him with narrowed eyes for a moment before giving up. She turns and stalks away, muttering "Stupidfag" under her breath as she haughtily brushes past. Hummel bristles for a moment, eyes clouding over in anger before he collects himself, standing up even straighter than before. His smile is only a little forced when he says.
"Sometimes the only way to deal with the cheerleaders here is to be just as bitchy as they are. Not that that's hard for me. I'm sort of a bitch anyhow. So my friends tell me. And my dad sometimes when we're fighting about fashion allowances. Born bitchy, that's me! In a nutshell. Oh God. I'm rambling," He stops abruptly, and Blaine wonders if the self-assurance was all an act as a faint blush spreads across the boy's cheeks and he awkwardly sticks his hand out in front of him.
"I'm Kurt. Hummel. It's nice to meet you."
Blaine looks at Kurt's hand but doesn't move his own away from his bag strap.
"Um," he says, taking a small step backwards. "Hi. It's nice to meet you, too. Call me Blaine."
Kurt gets that look on his face again and in an instant the attitude comes rushing back.
"You know," he says icily. "Contrary to what everyone in this backwater town thinks, you can't actually catch gay."
He looks down at Blaine like he's staring at a week-old dead rat and Blaine has never felt so small as Kurt continues,
"I mean, maybe if I sodomized you or, I don't know, spit in your drink? Maybe then you should go see the doctor to get inoculated or whatever it is you homophobes think you need to do after getting too close to a queer, but just shaking hands? Get over yourself."
He's started stalking off down the hall before Blaine startles into action again.
"Wait!" He says, a little loudly as he rushes after him. "No, no I didn't mean it like that! Kurt, I'm sorry!"
Kurt slows to a stop and turns as Blaine catches up.
"Shit, I'm sorry," Blaine says, not so much breathless as he is mortified. "I didn't even think about how you'd take that. I mean, with what she said and everything. I don't care if you're gay, I swear."
Kurt relaxes incrementally and looks a little chagrined as he says,
"Well, maybe I jumped to unfair conclusions."
He lifts up the plastic bag.
"I haven't been having a very good day."
There's an awkward pause as Blaine wonders what he's talking about before Kurt finally says,
"So...they don't shake hands where you come from?"
"Not this week," Blaine says a little bitterly. He likes Kurt. There's something about how expressive his face is and how all that animation makes everything around him fade to uninspired grey. Something about how he isn't afraid to face off a cheerleader to defend someone he's never met but will prattle on nervously when he has to make small talk. Whatever it is, it makes it hard to think properly when he's looking at Kurt face-to-face, and Blaine's thoughts are muddled and uncensored. His actions too, he realizes a split second too late.
"Oh my God, what happened?" Kurt gasps as he looks down at Blaine's extended and uncovered hand.
Blaine jerks it back and quickly slides it back inside his conveniently long sleeves, shrugging. Fortunately he hasn't completely lost his mind around this guy, because he doesn't do anything as reckless as telling the truth. Somehow he recognises that, "My dad gets scared when he thinks I'm planning on running away and his paranoid streak is a vicious one" won't go over well with his audience.
"My dad dropped a box of books onto my hand while we were unpacking this weekend," he says. "It's, uh, it's worse than it looks, but I'm not ready to face people with a firm handshake yet."
"Oh," Kurt says, his hand reaching forward a little anyhow, and for a second Blaine wonders if Kurt is planning on patting his arm instead, like he's a dog instead of a person. But Kurt comes to an awkward and halting stop before lowering his hand back to his side.
"So," he finally manages. "You're new then? Where's your next class? You seem to have lost your good will ambassador."
"Is that what she was?" Blaine asks.
"It's like a fancy way of saying self-centered cow," Kurt explains. "At least, that's what it means at this school."
"I don't know where I'm supposed to be right now," Blaine admits. "She didn't even tell me where my locker was."
"Well I'm not just here for my good looks," Kurt says, hesitating and blushing a little before he says, "What's your locker number? I can help you find it."
Blaine passes over the paper with his locker information and tentative schedule on it. Kurt studies it for a moment before his face lights up a little.
"You're right next to me! I have to drop off my things so I'll take you there right now."
He sounds happy enough at the development, and Blaine wants to know if Kurt is this excited at the idea of spending time with all the new students he encounters. He sort of hopes not. He's not ready to call Kurt his BFF and exchange friendship bracelets or anything, listening to Kurt chatter on and on is nice in a way he can't quite put his finger on.
As they walk towards the locker, Kurt offers advice on which options are the best to take, which teachers like a kiss ass and which ones don't, which cliques to avoid.
"I won't be offended if you don't look twice at me when there are people around," he says, fidgeting with Blaine's papers. "I'm not the least popular person here, but talking to me when you're new is a little bit like social suicide."
"Is it because you wash your hair in the bathrooms in the middle of the day?" Blaine asks, resisting the urge to nudge Kurt's shoulder as he says it. "Because that's kind of weird."
"Ha ha," Kurt says, flatly. "No, the bathroom thing is just one of the many crosses the unpopular students have to bear at this high school. McKinley is infamous for its slushie warfare."
Kurt opens the plastic bag he's been carrying for Blaine to look inside. There are some clothes inside that look like they could be high-end, but it's hard to tell for sure thanks to the sticky vibrant blue splash stains they are covered in.
"They dump slushies on people? And no one stops them?" Great. Apparently Blaine has been enrolled in a clown school.
Kurt shrugs.
"It is what it is," he says, as he leads Blaine to his locker before going to open one a few spaces down. "Try to be one of the cool kids, Blaine. That hair of yours is a little unruly. If it ever gets slushied I'm worried it may mutate into corn syrup-based dread locks, and none of us would want that, believe me."
"What if I can't swing it as a cool kid?" Blaine asks. "Am I allowed to talk to you then?"
"Blaine, if you can't make it as a cool kid, I will personally invite you to join the rest of the lost causes in glee club."
"You're in the glee club?" Blaine asks, remembering what Figgins said and wondering if by "social deviants" he meant "gay" or possibly just "not popular". "Thanks for the invitation Kurt, but I think I'll pass. I've never sung in front of an audience before in my life."
Kurt waves his hand dismissively.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he says. "No actually cares if you can sing in show choir so long as there's a strong soloist to cover your mistakes. But I didn't actually invite you yet. There is a strict protocol for joining New Directions, Blaine. You're only in if you are the lamest person in school or the coolest. The cool kids can handle the hit to their social status, and the rest of us never rated in the first place."
"I see," Blaine says, as he silently wonders how talking to someone he's just met could possibly be so easy. "Well, how will I know if suddenly qualify for your super exclusive extracurricular?"
"We'll let you know," Kurt says with a knowing smile. "There's a giant bat signal attached to the roof of the school, only it's a music note instead of a bat, and it'll start blinking your name in Morse code. We don't do things by halves in glee club."
***
He's been at the school for a day and a half when a big hulking kid in a letterman jacket catches sight of him talking to Kurt by their lockers when he starts laughing uproariously, smacking his equally hulking friend in the side and loudly shouting,
"Check it out, Karofsky: Hummel's got himself a girlfriend!"
He makes a frankly horrifying attempt at skipping as he moves his way towards them, slamming a meaty paw on each of their shoulders before continuing,
"So spill, Kurtsie. Where did you find a kid hard up enough to get a hardon for your ugly gay mug?"
"Oh my God," Kurt mutters, trying very hard not to look like he wants to die. He doesn't quite pull it off. He flashes an apologetic smile in Blaine's direction before saying in that same imperious voice Blaine heard him use on the cheerleader the first day, "Wow, that was really clever word play, Azimio. No really, I don't know why everyone says jocks are stupid. You get a bad rap."
"Are you implying that because I'm of colour I have criminal tendencies, Hummel?" Azimio asks, drawing himself up to even greater height. Blaine really wishes he was somewhere else, but the other guy - Karofsky - stops his friend before he beats them up to defend the honour of African Americans by getting him back to the task at hand: beating them up for no discernable reason at all.
"Why are you hanging around the fairy, new kid? Hasn't anyone ever told you that once you're doused with Sparkle Magic it doesn't come off? You can't cure that shit, no matter what your straight camp says."
"Maybe he's already infected," Azimio suggests, sounding a little like he thinks he's in an action movie, possibly in the Samuel L. Jackson role. Blaine gets a disconcerting mental image of a headshot that results in an eruption of rainbow sparkles, which just isn't right.
"Drop it, Karofsky." Kurt says loudly, before turning to Blaine and saying in a quieter, more irritated tone. "Just ignore them Blaine."
He grabs his books and slams his locker shut, making a move like he's going to make a break for it and head to his next class, but Azimio and Karofsky crowd in on him before he can get too far, forcing him back against the lockers.
"I don't think so, Hummel," Azimio says. "You see, David and me, we're like scholars. We want to learn all about this great world around us. I think it would be educational to see the mating habits of the Ohio Gay, one of nature's most endangered species."
"Endangered?" Blaine echoes.
"Well, they don't last very long here," Karofsky says, and somehow he sounds scarier than Azimio when he says it. Like, they're both threatening the exact same things, but something about the way Karofsky glowers at Kurt makes Blaine feel like he thinks about beating gay people up a lot in his spare time. Azimio just wants to push around a few losers, but Karofsky wants to attack Kurt because he can't even stomach the idea of him.
Kurt seems to have picked up on this too, because he's looking straight at Karofsky and Blaine realizes that he's going an unsettling shade of white. The air is thick with tension, and everyone has noticed except for the big idiot who started it in the first place.
"Don't let us interrupt," Azimio is saying. "Work your sparkle magic on him, Hummel. How does it start? Do you sing him a girl song? Because I've noticed you like doing that anyhow."
"That's a good point," Dave says. "Hey new kid, if you're going to be gay with Hummel, could you do us a favour and join their stupid little singing club right off the bat? Making the slushie rounds is always easier when we can find all the queers in one room with limited escape routes."
"Oh hey, there you are Kurt," A new voice suddenly is elbowing its way into the conversation, and Blaine looks over to see a tall guy with blonde surfer hair and an easy-going expression ambling his way over. "Did you get me those notes for Spanish class yet? No hurry or anything, but um...I think I failed the test today, so if you could hurry that would pretty much be awesome."
He slows to a stop in front of the group, looking back and forth between Kurt and the two jocks.
"Oh," he says, so innocently Blaine almost believes it when he says. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I can just, you know, wait here until you guys are done saying whatever it is you were saying. I have time."
No matter how broad the mysterious new shoulders are, Blaine doesn't think that the guy would be a match for the two small elephants who are preparing to step on Kurt and possibly himself as well. However, his presence seems to ruin whatever momentum Karofsky and Azimio had going, especially when he mutters something about being on his way to meet the Spanish teacher right now, and hoping he's not too late because he'd hate for "Mr. Schue" to have to come out and look for him. It's one of the more elegant passive-aggressive threats Blaine has ever heard, from a teenager anyhow.
"Whatever," Karofsky mutters, looking at the blonde guy like he'd like to rip off his head and mount it on a pike.
"This isn't over, fish face," he mutters as he roughly checks the blonde in the shoulder, stalking off as Azimio follows suit.
"Wow, grumpy," the guy says, trying to look offended but not quite able to hide a little self satisfied smirk.
Kurt is smiling too, although he looks more dazed then anything as he says, "Sam, you didn't have to do that," and Blaine can hear the smile come through in his voice.
Sam smiles back at him for real as he shrugs and says, "Actually, I sort of do need those notes if you have them. My mom told me this morning if I don't start investing as much energy into learning a real language as I do with the fake ones, she was going to throw out all my specialty dictionaries and disown me."
Kurt laughs a little louder than strictly necessary as he turns back to his locker and Blaine stares at the dirty marks on his shoes, noting how much nicer Kurt's look by comparison and wondering if maybe he should throw his in a washing machine or something.
He doesn't look up until Sam Whoever has gone and he hears Kurt sigh in a way that can only be described as wistful.
"I'm not going to lie," he says. "Sometimes it really sucks being the only gay kid at school. Especially when you've sworn off trying to convert the straight ones."
"You like him?" Blaine asks, trying to picture Kurt walking down the hall, looking up into Sam's eyes and leaning into his side as they hold hands, but not quite able to manage it.
"Story of my life," Kurt says. "Meet a cute boy and watch him immediately start throwing himself at Cheerios because apparently I have a type and that type? It's straight as an arrow and too cool to be desperate enough to experiment sexually."
"Well it's good to see you haven't let your unfortunate taste in straight boys get you down," Blaine says. "Keep on trucking, Kurt. With that can-do attitude, I'm sure you'll find someone eventually."
He doesn't stop to wonder about why a part of him hopes he's left by the time it happens.
***
Later that day, Blaine is rounding a corner when he hears a loud shout followed by peals of laughter. He sees Kurt standing in front of Karofsky, Azimio, and a few other jocks, dripping wet with bright green ice water, that is seeping into his clothes and presumably staining what Blaine is sure is a very expensive trench coat.
"That's for calling in your faggy jock buddy to save you earlier today," Karofsky says, smirking at him. "I don't care how popular any of your friends are, Hummel. Don't ever think you're better because of them."
Kurt just looks at Karofsky, sniffs a little, and stalks past the laughing crowd with his head held high. Karofsky's smirk quickly turns into a scowl. Blaine checks his watch as the students melt away into their classrooms. He watches Kurt disappear into a bathroom and hears a tap turning on a few seconds later.
Blaine is going to be late for his class if he doesn't leave now. He can't afford getting on anyone's radar by coming late to classes, or letting himself become a target for a school's resident meatheads. His dad has finally convinced himself that Blaine isn't going to take off any time soon, and he's been a lot nicer and easier to live with as a result, but he still doesn't like it when Blaine gets too friendly with anyone. More than once it's been the reason they leave a town ahead of schedule.
Blaine sighs a little. There is no way he can afford to be Kurt Hummel's friend. It's impractical, it's dangerous, and all it will get Blaine is a truckload of problems that he's too emotionally exhausted to handle at the moment. It's just not going to happen, even if sometimes Kurt looks like he's as lonely as Blaine feels, and is funny and interesting and maybe the most amazing person Blaine's ever met.
The sound of the tap can still be heard in the bathroom when the late bell rings. The hallway is completely empty.
"Fuck," Blaine says under his breath, as he pushes open the bathroom door to see if there is anything he can do to help.
***
Whenever Blaine's dad leaves a lot of bruises, he eases off for a while. Sometimes in his more cynical moments, Blaine assumes it's to keep people from getting too suspicious when he changes in the locker room, but most of the time Blaine is pretty sure it's just guilt. His dad isn't a terrible person, really. He just has a lot of demons, he always has.
One of the clearest memories Blaine has from his first days with Tom is right after the first time they slept together when Blaine really didn't want to. He doesn't remember why anymore, but it was very early on, so early that it may have only been the second time they had sex, so maybe only problem was that this time he knew how much it would hurt from experience.
Tom had held him down and forced his way inside, slapping Blaine across the face when he tried to squirm away, putting his hands around Blaine's neck and squeezing tight as he shouted in Blaine's ear that he was going to kill him. Blaine doesn't remember too clearly about everything his dad did that night, he's not even sure he was conscious for all of it. There are flashes of sensation – the ache in his throat from screaming for his mom and dad; the phantom memory of white-hot spikes of pain flaring up his lower back, but mostly he remembers early the next morning when Tom had carefully crawled into the bed behind him and hugged him gently, crying his apologies into Blaine's hair.
"I've done everything for you," he'd said in a rough voice. "I've given up so much for you to be safe and for us to be together. You can't make me angry like that. I never want to hurt you, but you can't say no. I can't stop myself from being like this when you throw everything I've done for us back in my face."
He remembers the words perfectly because he's heard them so many times over the years. "I can't control myself when you say no, Blaine." "Don't throw all my sacrifices back in my face." "I've done everything for you. If you can't love me like you're supposed to, we might as well be dead." "I'm scared I'll kill us both if you ever try to leave me, Blaine."
He's waited longer and longer over the years before he lets himself slink back to Blaine and gently hold him as he whispers his apologies, and since he's started to wait almost weeks at a time now before he touches Blaine again, it rarely stops at just holding as he carefully strokes up and down Blaine's sides and cries over the discoloured patches of skin.
After they move to Lima, and Tom whips him with what he claims had once been his grandfather's bible for a solid 40 minutes, Blaine knows he won't be seeing this wildly violent side of his dad again for a while. It's especially bad this time because he makes Blaine stand away from him with his hands against the wall, and before long Blaine can't stand it anymore as he holds up his arms to block the blows as they come. Dad holds his hand flat against the wall and hits it over and over until Blaine can't even take off his jeans that night when he goes to bed. Dad has to undress him and ice his hand, his expression tight, unable to look Blaine in the eye.
Blaine should be grateful. He knows that his dad always tries his best to be a better person after one of his episodes, but over the years Blaine begins to think he hates this softer, kinder, more apologetic version of his father more.
He doesn't know why it's worse, but when he feels the bed dip behind him one night an hour or so after he's turned out his light, and feels rough but feather-light hands slide into the front of his sweat pants, Blaine finds himself wishing for fists and shouting and pain that blossoms out from the contact points to stun him into non-action.
"I love you, Blaine," His dad whispers.
"I love you, too," Blaine says, his voice thickening with the tears building up behind his eyes.
Tom carefully works his pants down to his thighs as he murmurs,
"You're beautiful when you cry, Blaine. I hate myself for thinking it, but you are so damn gorgeous when you get this way."
"I'm sorry," Blaine says, wincing when he feels a wet finger brush against his hole. Sometimes he gets in trouble when he pulls away but it can be so hard not to. The touch is so soft it almost caresses him, and the worst part of it all is how Blaine can't keep the breathy moans from falling from his mouth. The tears that had been building up just moments ago run dry and Blaine tries to block out the whirlwind of emotions stirring up inside of him, wondering if it's wrong to hope that one day Tom really does go through with it: killing them both and ending this.
***
Blaine is a bit of a video game junkie. He's never gotten too into MMORPGs but he's been a fan of the first-person shooter games for almost longer than he can remember. He owns all the Halos and Call of Duty instalments he can get his hands on, since his dad will get him anything he asks for. All he has to do is mention there's a new game out, and suddenly there's a credit card waving in his face, as his dad tells him to have fun, but not do anything stupid, because he's not an idiot and he actually does read the statements at the end of each month.
"If you buy any plane tickets, I'll know." he always says, smiling, or sometimes "Don't run off and make me call the cops to haul your ass back here."
Blaine always smiles back and says thanks before heading out, but they both know neither of them think it's funny. It's just ritual.
Currently Blaine's favourite game is Portal. He's sort of forgotten about it until the release for Portal 2 keeps getting pushed back, and then he decides to replay the original from start to finish to kill a little time. Now it's almost the only thing he lets himself think about. Almost.
"I need to find a new dealer," Blaine mutters as he looks at his rapidly diminishing pot supply. "Do you know anyone?"
"Seriously?" Kurt asks, looking intensely unimpressed. "Do I look like a pothead to you?"
"I don't know," Blaine says a little defensively as he stuffs the baggie into his pocket and closes the door to his locker. "What do potheads look like?"
"I'd hoped not like you," Kurt snips.
"I wear poor-fitting jeans and hoodies, Kurt," Blaine says. "I've known you for two weeks now and you've already forbidden me from speaking the word Halo in your presence. According to you my hair looks like it hasn't been brushed in weeks so I won't disturb the family of mice you are convinced live there. I think I look like a stoner."
"I never said I thought mice lived in your hair Blaine," Kurt says. "I just told you that if you didn't try to control it a little better that they could."
Kurt is smiling a little, but mostly he just looks anxious. Blaine feels bad. He wouldn't have said anything if he thought Kurt was going to start worrying about imagined crippling drug dependencies, so he says,
"Don't worry, I don't do it a lot. Just when I haven't been sleeping well. It puts me out like a light. I'm done classes for the day so I figured I might as well."
"You haven't been sleeping?" Kurt asks, concern in his voice.
"It was a bad night last night," Blaine mutters before quickly adding, "I'll be careful, Kurt. I promise I won't get caught."
"No, you probably won't," Kurt concedes. "But that's got nothing to do with how careful you're being. The faculty at this school don't know substance abuse until it has personally vomited on their shoes. Trust me, I know."
Blaine senses a story there and he's about to ask about it when Kurt says,
"Could you at least try to find something else? When you can't sleep or whatever? I know it's not my place but...you're the best locker neighbour I've ever had. And you agreed to meet my friend Mercedes and join us for our Top Modelmarathons. Not even Sam would sit through that for us. I know. Mercedes invited him once when she ran into him at her church. I don't want to see you get expelled or turn into one of those guys who brings their bong to class."
"I'll try," Blaine says, and he's pretty sure he's lying but maybe not. He plans on going home and lighting up immediately, falling asleep and hopefully staying that way until the next morning, but instead he finds himself wandering around the bleachers watching the cheerleading practise, even though it's really getting too cold to sit outside and stare blankly into space.
He doesn't start doing it on purpose, but before too long his mind is drifting away from impressing Kurt to trying to remember how he got past that one puzzle the last time he played Portal, and since he really is sort of tired soon he stops doing even that in favour of watching the Cheerios cartwheel as he wonders to himself what GLaDOS would tell them as they died like lab rats stuck in a never-ending maze.
Blaine shakes himself when he realizes that at some point he stopped looking at the hot girls and started looking at their coach screaming at them through her bullhorn, which is right about when he hears someone say,
"That's a really pretty song. I love cake."
He jumps about a foot in the air and spins around to see a blonde girl in uniform sitting next to him, nodding her head along to the song he hadn't even been aware he was singing.
"Holy shit," he wheezes, putting a hand to his heart. "I didn't even hear you walk up. You must move like a cat."
"If I moved like a cat you would have heard me," she says. "My cat broke through a wall once just leaning against it. When he gets up to eat you can hear him in every room in the house. He loves cake, too."
"Oh," Blaine doesn't exactly know what to say to her, or even why she's sitting beside him chatting instead of practising with the other girls. He goes for the easy route and offers,
"I'm Blaine."
"I know who you are," the girl says. "Kurt talks about you a lot. Your hair is awful."
Blaine raises a hand to his head as he wonders what it is about this place and their obsession with his hair.
"Is that song about sex?" The girl asks abruptly.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"The song," she repeats, as though she's talking to a complete moron and hell, maybe she is, because Blaine is lost. "Santana says most songs are about sex, especially if there's cake in them. My boyfriend just dumped me because he thinks I had sex with him for his voice and now I need to sing a solo for our duet competition all about how much he wishes he could be tapping my ass but he'll never be able to ever again because jerks can't get with this."
She waves a indicative hand aimlessly up and down her body.
"Um...I-I don't actually think this cake song has much to with sex at all, uh...I'm sorry, I think I missed your name?"
"You didn't," She says. "I didn't tell you. If the song isn't about sex, what is it about?"
"Video games and an evil killer robot, mostly," Blaine says.
The girl nods as though she's thinking this over carefully before she breaks out in a smile and says,
"That's good, too! My ex-boyfriend is part robot anyhow, so it will totally work. Thanks Blaine."
"You're welcome," Blaine says, giving up on learning her name as he makes a mental note just to ask Kurt about her later. "Why are you singing a solo for a duet competition?"
"Because I was using my boyfriend for his voice," She says before hopping up and down in her seat a little and asking, "Do you want to sing with me? You have to audition before you sing with us, but maybe you can do both at once. I bet Mr. Schue would love a kid on glee club who can sing two songs at the same time!"
Blaine is in the middle of trying to politely decline the offer, not to mention convince her that he's not actually able to split his voice in two when they hear someone shouting for a Brittany. Blaine looks over to see a pretty Latina girl glowering at them with her hands on her hips.
"Gotta go!" Brittany says brightly hopping up like they aren't mid-conversation. She leans over and kisses Blaine on the cheek before scurrying off. Blaine stares after her for a good 20 minutes, trying to figure out what exactly happened, and whether it was something akin to a good trip, or a bad one.