A/N: Hello! I've had this written down forever but never got around to finishing it. I started it before On My Way was even being filmed, so no it's not based off of that. Very AU.
It's Cheerio!Kurt, Badboy!Blaine, Hummelbray!Twins, and Anderberry!Siblings. See? Told you. Told 1st person from Kurt's and then Rachel's POV.
Enjoy!
~o0o~
Kurt
"Morning, Hummel," Blaine greeted as he stalked up to my locker, resting casually on the wall and openly checking me out. I rolled my eyes and ignored him otherwise.
"You know I just got out of juvie," he enquired. Of course, I thought, because who wouldn't know. Blaine had practically screamed at anyone who would listen that he'd been the top dog; that everyone had bowed down to him. Frankly, it was getting kind of annoying.
"Hit and run," he continued when I refused to answer. He laughed once and strode forward so his face was inches from mine. I backed away and closed my locker with extreme patience.
"Blaine, let me be the first to say that, as attractive as you are," I said, checking him out the same way he had moments before, "I'm not interested." I turned and walked away, hearing Blaine calling something along the lines of "You'll come to your senses sooner or later, Hummel!" as I pointedly ignored him once again.
Even if Blaine was the only other out gay kid in the school (Santana wasn't out yet, more like standing in the closet with the door wide open and refusing to come out, but she was a girl, so she didn't really count in this sense), I wasn't going to just throw myself around. Apparently, that was what he'd done at his old school, making out with almost every guy at Dalton Academy, gay or straight. Yes, he was hot. Yes, sometimes thinking about him got me hot. But even if he was trying to get to me, I wouldn't let him. He didn't love me, and I didn't love him.
Right?
~o0o~
"Why so late, Porcelain?" Coach Sylvester asked as I walked into Cheerio practise a good ten minutes late. The rest of the squad were already practising the one routine that didn't involve me, already halfway through building the final pyramid.
"Blaine Anderson is pursuing me and I had to take the long way here after I got away," I explained, dropping my bag on a bench and sitting on the floor to stretch. Sue raised an eyebrow at my casualty about the situation.
"Do you want me to get rid of him?" she offered. "I have many creative methods of threatening and torturing, many of which are legal in select states." I laughed under my breath and shook my head.
"Thanks, Coach, but I think I can handle this one on my own." I began warming up my voice with my body, working through a few vocal runs as Sue left and Quinn joined me.
"What's up, Kurt?" she asked like the good little sister she was. Despite being the older twin, Quinn looked up to me most of the time. I smiled at her.
"Rachel's little brother is going after me again," I stated, pulling myself up off the floor and taking a sip of water. Quinn sighed.
"I'm starting to think you should take Sue up on one of her offers," she suggested absently. I laughed and took her hand, pulling her with me for a few laps around the gym. Other than my vocal runs, we stayed silent until Coach Sylvester called us for "Saturday," the new routine that we were going to perform at the half-time show the following weekend. I, of course, had lead vocals.
"Q! Porcelain! Get your butts over here and practise!" We complied, knowing that ignoring Sue's orders was equal to a death wish.
The band filed out onto the floor, out of uniform but still carrying their instruments. The teacher that ran the club wasn't nearly as strict as Sue, so they could wear street clothes in rehearsal (something Sue wasn't too happy about).
A marching beat started up amongst the drummers and I began singing.
Believe me, it's easy to scream when you're dreaming
And wonder what's under your bed when you're sleeping.
They beat you, and blame you for all that you went through.
But hey it's just another Saturday.
It's only just another Saturday.
Somewhere, Artie (who had tagged along with the band for this very reason) began playing an electric guitar, starting the chorus.
I love you, I need you like a thousand times before.
Wonder why I hate you but I'm screaming out for more.
I only wanted your attention, at least the pain is some connection
But hey, it's just another Saturday
Despite how slow the song was, Sue had somehow forged an elaborate dance out of the music. Almost none of it involved me, though, so I just stood at the front of the group and sang my heart out.
Believe me, it's easy to live between the lines.
When mommy says sorry over a thousand times.
You're tied up, you're cried out, you've gotta get outta here.
But hey it's just another Saturday.
It's only just another Saturday.
I looked behind me at Quinn, seeing a tear roll down her cheek. After our mom died when we were little, we were literally cried out and tied up in thoughts of her. It was extremely depressing. I shot Quinn an understanding look as she was twirled away by one of the lifters. I faced the front again and ignored the fact that I saw a person in the bleachers.
I love you, I need you like a thousand times before.
Wonder why I hate you but I'm screaming out for more.
I only wanted your attention, at least the pain is some connection
And if I feel, then I need it.
If I love, then I'm free. Then I'm free, yeah!
Santana and Brittany were thrown into my arms by a pair of boys, then stood behind me and sang backup as Quinn emerged from the crowd to join them.
You make a mess of me
You make a mess of me, yeah, yeah!
Artie played a few more riffs on his guitar, artfully skilled for a sixteen-year-old. Now I know what he does while everyone else is in gym class. I did a short, yet intricate dance during the interlude, swaying along with my sister and her friends.
I love you, I need you like a thousand times before.
Wonder why I hate you but I'm screaming out for more.
I only wanted your attention, at least the pain is some connection
But hey it's just another Saturday, another Saturday
It's only just another Saturday, another Saturday
And I'm free, I'm free, yeah!
And I'm free, yeah and I'm free, yeah, yeah!
The song ended, and I was breathing heavily from screaming out the words. Despite the fact that what little dancing I did was simple, my heart was pounding in my ears and I almost didn't hear the figure in the bleachers applauding over Sue's criticisms. Sue noticed, though, and promptly began yelling at him from across the room through her megaphone.
"Anderson! I thought I told you to stay out of my Cheerio practise, no matter how horny you get watching my guys dance around!" she scolded. Blaine seemed unfazed by the comment and quickly responded.
"I came to watch Hummel sing!" he stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I rolled my eyes and spoke into the mic that Sue had planted on my head before the number.
"Blaine, how many times do I have to say this? I'm not. Interested." I turned off the headset and spun on my heel, walking towards the change rooms. Class would start in half an hour, and I needed a shower.
Just before I took my shirt off, I remembered that I had left my gym bag on the bench. I left my headset in my locker and headed back to the gym, stopping when I heard someone humming the song I had just performed. I poked my head out to see who it was, finding Blaine holding his leather jacket in one hand and my bag in the other, sitting on the bleachers. Luckily, he was facing the other way, so he didn't see me.
I thought over my options. I could a) wait until he leaves (though with his reputation he'd cut class to wait), b) skip the shower and go straight to class (which would result in me smelling like sweat all day, so that was out), or c) man up and go get my bag. I ended up deciding the third option, since the worst-case scenario would be getting stuck in a conversation with him. Despite his reputation, even Blaine wouldn't sexually harass me.
I readied myself, knowing that Blaine would have to notice me. I walked up to him noiselessly, grabbed my bag, and walked away. He grabbed my wrist though, preventing me from escaping.
"What do you want, Anderson," I asked, using his last name the way he so often used mine. "I need to take a shower."
"Just a question," Blaine said quietly, refusing to look at me. "Why don't you like me?"
The question caught me off guard; I froze and looked at him, forming an answer in my head.
"Your attitude," I decided after a few moments of silence. "The way you act in public. Cocky, ignorant, downright mean sometimes." His grip loosened and he used his other hand to toss me my bag.
"Thanks," he mumbled, letting go of me and shrugging his jacket back on. I stood there shocked as he left. I stared after him for a minute before taking my bag back into the change room and taking a quick five-minute shower. I threw on my spare uniform, shaking my hair dry and leaving it that way. I would style it later; I was running out of time.
I kept mulling my current situation over in my head, replaying the two very different conversations with Blaine I'd had this morning. The first in the hallway had been what I'd usually expect from him—the arrogant, I-don't-give-a-damn attitude that I was so used to. The most recent one, however, had shown a side of Blaine I'd never seen before—quiet, cautious, almost... scared.
Breaking myself out of my thoughts, I stepped into my first period English class just as the late bell rang. Unfortunately, the only seat left was between Quinn and Rachel. Great, I thought, dropping into my seat. I'm sitting between my sister and my stalker's sister. Fan-freaking-tastic.
I drowned out the teacher's extremely boring lecture by playing "Saturday" on repeat in my head and reviewing my few dance steps. I let my thoughts wander aimlessly, only being interrupted once when Mr. Laney called on me. He repeated the question, and I gave a detailed answer despite not paying any attention at all. He grumbled and continued, not bothering to ask me again.
By the end of the period, my hair was dry and I was being tracked down by Blaine yet again. As usual, he was waiting for me by my locker.
"Hi," he greeted shyly, leaning his back against the locker beside mine with his arms crossed over his chest. His greeting was much more toned down than usual. "Can I talk to you? Alone," he added, leaning his head closer to mine as his volume lowered. I raised an eyebrow but left my things in my locker and walked into an empty classroom, Blaine on my tail. He closed the door behind himself and sat on the teacher's desk.
"What do you want?" I asked, sitting across from him on one of the student's desks. He stared at the floor and stayed silent.
"You said you wanted to talk? Then talk, or I'm leaving," I stated plainly, acting very much like my sister when she was in bitch-mode. He took a breath and looked at me.
"I'm sorry," Blaine apologized quietly. "I'm sorry for acting like that. Do you want to know why I do it?" he asked. I looked at him curiously, prompting him to go on.
"Back in middle school, I was bullied so badly for my sexuality that I did this." He took his jacket off again and rolled up his sleeves, revealing a pattern of white lines scrawled across his arms. Scars.
"I tried to kill myself," he continued, running a hand along his arm absentmindedly. He stayed silent for a long time after that. After a few minutes, I got up and sat beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. I noticed a tear roll down his cheek.
"Thank you," he whispered, leaning into me. I moved my arm from his shoulder to around his waist, the same way I had with Quinn when she found out she was pregnant. And when she'd told me that it wasn't Finn's. And during the mood swings. And after she gave Beth up. And all the times after that when she'd been in a bad mood.
I brought myself back to the present and let Blaine cry silently into my shirt. I held him close to me, letting him know that no matter what he did to me in the past, I was there for him.
Once he stopped crying, Blaine began talking again.
"This 'badboy' image I created for myself was to make me seem tough, like I didn't care what other people did or said about me. Then, I met you." Blaine looked up at me from his spot on my chest. "I met you, confident even without the threats of violence in your stance and attitude. I met you, and then I heard you sing. About six months ago, when you came over to have a sleepover with Rachel, you were singing 'Blackbird' and that's when..." Blaine trailed off, leaving a hanging tension in the air for a minute.
"That's when I fell in love with you."
My breath caught in my throat as for the second time that day Blaine caught me off guard. This time, though, he kept talking.
"I had come downstairs to, admittedly, annoy the crap out of Rachel and your sister, and I saw you singing on the stage with Quinn. When I heard you, it was like something clicked and I had this—this moment where for a split second I thought 'Oh, there you are, I've been looking for you forever.' That's why I've been trying to get to you, Kurt. I've tried everything, and nothing is working. So this is my last chance to ask this: Will you please, please be my boyfriend?"
After a few moments of me processing the information, Blaine made to move away. I held him in place, though, and leaned down slowly. I pressed a short kiss to his lips and laughed quietly when I felt him smile.
"I've wanted to do that since I first met you," I admitted sheepishly, feeling my face heat up. Blaine raised an eyebrow at me.
"What happened to 'Not interested'?" he asked, sitting up straighter and shuffling himself closer so we were touching from hip to shoulder. I pondered the question for a minute and decided on the answer that made the most sense.
"I guess I was lying to myself," I realized. "I've never actually fallen in love with anyone; only major crushes. Including one on my now-stepbrother while my sister was dating him." Blaine gave me a confused look at my convoluted family relationships, unable to find words for a response. I laughed at his expression and hugged him closer for a second, getting back on topic.
"I want to be with you, Blaine, but you need to drop the act." I looked down at his left arm, realizing the scars on it were crudely-drawn letters. I studied them for a few seconds, finding that the word the letters spelled was GOODBYE. His other arm was hidden behind my back.
"If it's not too much," I whispered, still staring at Blaine's arm, "what happened?"
Seeing where my gaze was pointed, Blaine shifted uncomfortably. He sighed and looked at his arm.
"Eighth grade. I had just come home from school, and Rachel and our dads were at a movie. It had been about four months since I had officially come out, but the teasing had been going on since grade school. I was depressed, and I saw a knife on the coffee table from the night before. I wasn't thinking straight..." Blaine trailed off again, lost in a memory. He sniffled and spoke up again.
"Rachel found me in my room when she got home. I was unconscious, but she stopped the bleeding before it got too bad. I woke up in the hospital a few hours later." As he finished speaking, he sighed and flailed his free arm helplessly. In the few seconds of silence that followed, I checked the clock to find that we had ten minutes until lunch. An idea sparked in my head and I got up off the desk, pulling Blaine with me.
"Come with me," I said gently, tugging him into the hallway and past the other classroom doors. I came to the one I was looking for—the choir room. Checking to make sure that Mr. Shue wasn't there, I all but pushed Blaine in and turned on the lights. Once he had sat down, I pulled my phone from my pocket and sent a quick text to Puck, knowing that he would be the only person I knew that fit the situation and also cut class to do it.
Within two minutes, the football player was standing in the doorway with his backpack slung over one shoulder. I stood up from where I was sitting beside Blaine and whispered in the taller boy's ear. He nodded and grabbed a guitar and a chair, sitting himself about three feet away from Blaine.
"I don't know what the hell's going on with you, or why Kurt-the-academic-saint has called me to cut class for it. What I do know is that Kurt wants to sing you a song and he can't play guitar. So here I am." Puck concluded his little disclaimer by gesturing to himself vaguely. He sat the guitar in his lap and checked the tuning, then began playing the song I had requested. The opening chords were simple, echoing around the room a bit before I began singing.
Tell me what I'll never be,
Make me feel broken.
Tell me what I should believe,
I didn't know it was broken.
And I'm gunnin' for you, I'm gunnin' for you.
I could tell that Blaine didn't recognize the song, but that he was still listening to the lyrics intently. His gaze dropped from mine down to his arm, where he had pulled his sleeve back down but was still grazing his thumb over. I took his hand in mine as I sang.
And I will wait, I'll write another letter to myself.
And I will find out that morning comes faster alone.
I hate the way you look at me,
As if I was broken.
And the perfection of my frailty
Has been questioned and broken.
Puck kept playing as I stood up and kneeled in front of Blaine, the guitar player skittering his chair back so I had room. Blaine had his eyes closed, but his cheeks were wet and he was silently sobbing. I squeezed his hands comfortingly and sang quietly, only for him.
And I'm gunnin' for you, I'm gunnin' for you.
And I will wait, I'll write another letter to myself.
And I will find out that morning comes faster alone.
And I feel like I'm fine today,
I feel like I'm ready to take this on.
And I'll fight you to the grave for it,
I'll never let you take a part of me with you.
Blaine sniffled and opened his eyes, finding me in front of him. Something of a smile crossed his face and he mouthed the chorus along with me, having picked it up by listening.
And I will wait, I'll write another letter to myself.
And I will find out that morning comes faster alone.
And I will wait, I'll write another letter to myself.
And I will find out that morning comes faster alone.
The perfection of my frailty
Has been questioned and broken.
Puck finished the song with a few soft notes, leaving the room in complete silence for a moment. He stood and put the guitar back, saying a soft "See you around," before leaving Blaine and I alone. I checked the clock again. We had three minutes until lunch. I stood up and sank back into my chair, still holding Blaine's hand as he cried.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, for singing me that song, and for letting me... be myself. I haven't been able to since that day," he admitted, knowing I knew what he was talking about. The bell rang and we heard the hallways fill with voices and footsteps.
"You want to hang out with the glee club? Because if you don't then we have to leave," I stated, but Blaine showed no signs of moving anytime soon. Sure enough, Finn filed in, followed by Santana, Brittany, Quinn, and Rachel. Artie was wheeled in by Mike, Tina following close behind. Mercedes looked a bit hurt at the fact that her usual seat beside me was taken by Blaine on one side and Quinn on the other, but dealt with it and sat behind us with Matt. Puck came in last, tailing Mr. Shue and Kathryn, the shy freshman from California who had filled an empty spot since she arrived and stuck around when the football boys had joined.
A few people shot wary glances at Blaine but stayed silent. Tina noticed our twined hands and giggled as she passed. Rachel raised an eyebrow at her brother, who shrugged and gave her a threatening look. She rolled her eyes and skipped to the back, sitting beside Puck and taking his hand.
"Okay guys," Mr. Shue called, clapping his hands once. "Let's get started!"
"Mr. Schuester, can I just point out that my baby brother doesn't belong here?" Rachel stated loudly, raising her free hand.
"Rachel, I belong here just as much as you do," Blaine retorted, taking up his badboy stance again. Rachel pouted and shrank into her seat.
"Okay," Mr. Shue mumbled. "How about we start singing?"
"Uh, Mr. Shue?" Kathryn muttered quietly, raising her hand. "I kind of have a song I want to sing."
The teacher nodded, and Kathryn stood in the middle of the room. Probably already having told the band guys what song she was doing, she signalled for them to start playing. She sang a beautiful rendition of "My Immortal" by Evanescence, her colourful voice filling the empty space in the room. By the end, Puck was in tears and even Rachel was applauding.
"Awesome, Kathryn. Now, this week's assignment is to find an inspiring song, something that can pull a person out of a depression, or even just a bad mood," Mr. Shue explained, writing PERFECT on the whiteboard with a blue marker. "I want you to find something that says 'You are perfect', and I want you to sing it to someone who needs it."
I looked at Blaine, who nodded and nudged my hand up. I knew he was giving me permission to sing the song again, this time in front of everyone.
"Mr. Shue?" I asked, raising my hand. "I actually already have a song I want to sing, and the person to sing it to." The teacher nodded again and stepped aside. I stood and took his place, Puck following me and taking the guitar he used earlier from it's stand again when I called him.
We had a repeat performance of "Gunnin'," the only difference being that the glee club was watching. Rachel had a shocked expression on her face throughout the song, while the rest of the club just looked a bit confused.
"The perfection of my frailty has been questioned and broken." My voice echoed around the room and left a hanging tension in it's wake. Brittany began clapping, followed by Santana and eventually the entire group. I sat back down beside Blaine and took his hand.
"Thank you, Kurt," Mr. Shue said, sounding somewhat stupefied. "Anyone else?" No one came up, so the teacher just let us talk until the bell rang and we were dismissed. I followed Blaine to French (the one class we shared, as I hadn't bothered taking it the year before) and sat beside him in the back. It seemed like we had come to some sort of silent agreement—he kept me from being killed, and I helped keep him sane. So far, it was working.
The rest of the day was uneventful. When the dismissal bell rang, I followed Quinn and Finn to the car, but was intercepted by Rachel halfway there.
"It's fine guys," I called to my sister and step-brother when Rachel refused to let me leave. "I need to go to the shop later anyways." The two seemed unconvinced, but drove off a few moments later.
"Yes, Rachel?" I asked, back in bitch-mode. The girl got straight to the point.
"What's going on between you and Blaine?" she hissed. "I thought you didn't like him."
I sighed. "It's none of your business. If he wants to tell you, he'll tell you, but I'm not going to rat him out." I turned to walk away, but the little Berry girl held a death grip on my wrist.
"I don't know how much you know," she whispered, her voice a tad gentler. "But I'm the one who found him like that, for god's sake. We were both put in therapy. I got over it, but he put on a mask. A mask he hasn't taken off for years. I'm his sister; I deserve to know if he's gotten any better after all this time."
I stared at her for a second, trying to find her motives. Nothing came to mind except concern for her little brother.
"I'm sorry, Rachel," I said finally, "but I can't tell you. This is between me and Blaine, and it's not my place to decide to tell you or not." I twisted out of her grip and straightened my uniform. "The shop is on the way to your place, can you give me a ride?" I asked, changing the subject. Rachel sighed and led me to her car, where Blaine was leaning against the door with his jacket on again. There was a flicker of something in his eyes when he saw me. Rachel didn't notice.
"Shotgun," Blaine called, sliding into the passenger seat. I rolled my eyes and sat behind him, secretly grateful that it hadn't been the other way around. Rachel drove us downtown, passing by the shop completely.
"What gives?" I asked, catching Blaine's attention. Rachel kept driving.
"Call your dad," she said simply. "Tell him you're coming to my place for a bit. We need to talk." Her gaze flickered to Blaine for a moment, though the boy didn't notice.
I sighed and pulled out my phone, texting Quinn so she could tell dad where I was. She asked me why I wasn't coming home, and I replied honestly with "I don't know."
We pulled up to the Anderson-Berry house, the family more commonly known as "Anderberry" the same way mine was shortened from Hudson-Hummel to "Hudmel". Blaine had taken Deighton's last name and Rachel Dante's, which had caused something of a confusion throughout the school about if they were actually related or not.
Blaine hopped out of the car and fled inside while Rachel grabbed their bags. "You coming?" she asked as she stood up. I nodded and followed her inside.
Blaine had taken over the couch, his head on one end and his feet on the other, jacket and shoes discarded on the floor. His sister sighed and shoved his feet out of the way, sitting in their place. Blaine rolled his eyes and sat up, wrapping an arm around his sister's waist and then mine when I settled on his other side. Rachel wriggled away and turned so her feet were next to his legs and her knees up to her chest. I honestly didn't give a damn what Blaine was doing, so I broke the silence after a moment.
"Rachel, why exactly are you holding me hostage?" I asked, looking at the girl as I spoke. She ignored me and flipped the TV on, settling on an old cartoon. I watched the little animated characters run around on screen, not really getting the storyline at all but pretending to like it for the sake of avoiding too much of an awkward silence. After about ten minutes of the coyote chasing the ostrich on hallucinogens and the cat failing miserably at stealing the songbird, Blaine spoke up.
"Why did you bring Kurt here?" he asked softly without looking away from the TV. Rachel turned the volume down and looked at us.
"What happened at school today?" she enquired in a hushed voice. I felt Blaine stiffen slightly beside me. His eyes flicked towards mine for a moment and I nodded encouragingly.
"I—I told Kurt," he confessed quietly. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it as he kept speaking. "He knows about... all of it. The scars, the sleepover, all of my secrets. It helped a bit." He still hadn't looked away from the TV screen.
"Blaine," Rachel whispered, placing her feet back on the floor and sitting properly. She gathered her younger brother in her arms and hugged him. Blaine melted into her embrace but never let go of my hand.
"What took you so long?" the girl whispered jokingly. Blaine let out a laugh.
"I don't know. Kurt, I guess," he said shakily. I smiled and hugged him from behind.
We stayed like this for a few minutes, Blaine in a limbo somewhere between laughing and crying and Rachel and I cuddling up to him. As I heard a car pull in the driveway I leaned back, pulling Blaine with me and wrapping an arm around his waist.
"You guys want to go upstairs?" I asked quietly. Both of them nodded and I followed them to Rachel's room, closing the door behind myself and sitting on her bed as I heard the front door shut.
"Rachel? Blaine? Where are you?" Dante called from downstairs. "I saw the car, I know you're here!"
Rachel sighed. "I'll be right back." She headed back downstairs, leaving Blaine and I alone again.
"C'mere," I muttered, leaning back against the headboard and opening my arms. A faint smile crossed Blaine's face as he shuffled up to sit between my legs and lay his back on my chest. I hugged him close and buried my face in his soft curls.
"Sing," Blaine whispered softly. We could hear faint mumbles from downstairs and though the words themselves were unintelligible, I suspected that Rachel and her father were talking about Blaine and maybe me.
"What song?" I questioned, mentally scanning through my repertoire. His answer surprised me.
"Do you know any other songs by the guy that did 'Saturday'?" I thought for a minute before one popped into my head. I began singing in a low voice, barely audible.
Hello, I love you,
Won't you tell me your name?
Hello, I need you,
Like a bullet to my brain.
It seems I'm never breaking free,
While you sit and watch me bleed.
When the night falls there's nowhere to go,
Blaine lolled his head on my shoulder and snuggled closer to me, sighing heavily. God was he adorable like this. I raised my voice a bit for the chorus.
I won't let you in let you see me cry,
I can't give you that satisfaction this time.
And do you really get what you need,
Beating the hell out of me?
I'm so tired of getting up off the floor,
I won't take this anymore. I won't take this anymore.
Blaine's hands found mine and held them, bringing them up to his stomach. I looked at his arms again, seeing something I hadn't noticed before. His right arm—the one that had been hidden earlier—also had scars. I stared at them until the word I knew was there formed itself out if the jagged lines. IM SORRY. An apology. I placed a feather-light kiss on Blaine's face and felt rather than saw him smile as I sang.
So low, but still breathing.
Funny how you show you care.
Is hell still beneath me,
Or am I already there?
It seems I'm never breaking free,
While you sit and watch me bleed.
When the night falls there's nowhere to go.
I won't let you in let you see me cry,
I can't give you that satisfaction this time.
And do you really get what you need,
Beating the hell out of me?
I'm so tired of getting up off the floor,
I won't take this anymore.
Blaine's breathing deepened and evened out, his arms going limp over mine. He had fallen asleep. I watched his face; he was still somewhat smiling in his sleep. My own smile widened as my voice quieted, still singing even though Blaine was out of it.
All that's left in this brave new world,
Is ticking clocks and dancing girls,
And broken hearts to find another way to shut it all out.
So take some time in life to see,
This point of view from on your knees,
Electric hearts will play a song you've heard,
A thousand times. A thousand times...
I won't let you in let you see me cry,
I can't give you that satisfaction this time.
And do you really get what you need,
Beating the hell out of me?
You're never gonna spread your disease,
So take your hands off of me,
I'm so tired of getting up off the floor,
I won't take this anymore. I won't take this anymore.
I kissed Blaine's forehead and sank down into Rachel's excessively plushy bed, falling into a deep sleep along with him.
~o0o~
I woke to the sound of my phone ringing. I could feel that Blaine was still half on top of me, so I gently shoved him on to Rachel's bed and sat up, swinging my legs to the floor. I pulled my phone out and froze when I saw the time combined with the phone number. Quinn never called me at three thirty in the morning. Something must be wrong.
"Quinn?" I whispered, trying and failing miserably to keep my voice low enough to avoid waking Blaine. He began muttering something incoherent until I grabbed his hand to assure him I hadn't left.
I heard sniffles on the other end of the line. "Kurt? C-can you come home?" my sister sobbed quietly. "I need you right now."
"What's wrong?" I asked. Quinn sniffled again.
"I know this might sound stupid, but I had a nightmare and you're the only person I have right now."
"It's not stupid, Quinnie," I promised. "What was it about?"
"Mom," she supplied. "And Nicole."
I sighed and stared at the floor. Nicole was our baby sister. Our mother had died giving birth and the baby was a stillborn. Quinn and I would periodically have dreams about what would have happened if at least Nicole had lived, what she would be like, the boys she would bring home and how we would scare them into treating our baby sister like the only girl on earth. Her bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, how she might dye it dark or cut it short or let it grow past her knees. About what would have happened if both of them had lived, our mother taking care of her precious little child with us watching over. How happy our dad would be to have three of his own children and a loving wife. The butterfly effect of what Carole and Finn might be doing at the time without us.
"Quinn," I whispered finally, "why was it a nightmare?"
Another sniffle. "It was Nicole being bullied. Mom watching helplessly. You and me held back by the football idiots. Nicole was bleeding..." She trailed off and sighed.
"Quinn, I can't come home right now. Rachel kidnapped me and to be honest, I think Blaine needs me. I'll get one of them to drive me home later, but it's three thirty in the morning, for god's sakes. Go back to sleep and remember that nothing bad can happen to Nicole or mom; they're safe now." Blaine shuffled behind me and began mumbling again. Quinn thanked me and apologized for waking me up.
"Best brother ever, right?" I joked. She laughed and hung up.
"Kurt?" Blaine slurred quietly. I squeezed his hand and pocketed my phone.
"I'm here, Blaine." I saw him smile in the dark.
"Come here," he mumbled, tugging on my hand to pull me closer. I layed back down and let him cuddle up to me again, his head resting on my shoulder and his arm draped across my waist. I put my own arm behind him, my hand resting protectively on his back.
"Who's Nicole?" Blaine mumbled curiously. I stuttered awkwardly and settled on the simplest answer.
"My baby sister. She was a stillborn and my mom died giving birth." Blaine looked at me sympathetically and kissed my cheek, snuggling closer to me and wiping away a tear I didn't know was there. I closed my eyes, willing a peaceful, dreamless sleep to come.
It did.
~o0o~
Rachel
"Blaine?" I called, knowing my baby brother had to be home. He couldn't drive yet seeing as he was fourteen, and his bike was still in the garage. "Blaine? Where are you?"
I ventured upstairs while my fathers shed their coats and settled on the couch, beginning a bit of small talk about the movie we had just seen. I checked the bathroom (empty), my room (also empty, but I wanted to see if Blaine had rooted through my things again), and finally Blaine's room. Expecting him to be asleep or fawning over Zac Efron or something, I swung the door open and froze.
"Blaine?" I whispered, slightly horrified at the sight. My baby brother was laying on the floor, unconscious, with his arms covered in dark red blood. His chest was moving up and down; he was still breathing, albeit shallowly.
"Dad! Daddy! Help!" I called downstairs. Blaine didn't react at all to my screams.
I rushed up to him and used a shirt from the floor to wipe the blood from his body, seeing the cuts I knew were there and freezing when I realized they spelled a word. Pausing a moment, I made out the message from the crude handwriting. IM SORRY.
"No, Blaine, please don't," I whispered frantically as I heard my parents climb the stairs. I tied the t-shirt around his arm and started on the other as fast as I could. My dad stepped in and had almost the same reaction I did, though he recovered quicker and pulled out his phone. I heard him dial the three-digit number that Blaine and I had been taught to never use unless we were in serious danger since we were toddlers, and the panic set in. I retreated to the corner of the bedroom as my dad and daddy took over what I was doing and I put my head between my knees.
This can't be happening, I thought to myself. My little brother could not have just tried to kill himself. I looked over at him and a fresh wave of fear swept over me. He had tried to take his own life, and I couldn't do anything about it. Tears slid down my face and I let myself go on autopilot, refusing to feel anything for the time being.
I don't know how much time passed before the ambulance came, just the sound of sirens after what seemed like hours, though it was probably only a few minutes. I saw the paramedics come in, though I couldn't pick their faces out of a crowd. I was numb as I was led away by my dad, numb as I was loaded into his car, and numb during the entire drive to the hospital.
It wasn't until the smell of the hospital antiseptic reached my nose that I allowed myself to think of my brother again. His eyes were closed when I'd found him, almost as if he had been sleeping. He was still breathing, too. A good thing. I focused on not losing my little brother, my little Blaine who would climb into my bed when he'd have a bad dream in kindergarten, or bug me for hours until I helped him with his homework back in grade school.
I couldn't lose him.
~o0o~
Therapy. Every other day after school, I would leave the Sampson High parking lot in my dad's car and go to therapy. The days I didn't go, Blaine would be picked up at his new private school, Dalton Academy, and do the same thing. Sunday afternoons we went together. From what I was hearing, Blaine had gone badboy and almost been suspended from school in his first week. The doctors said he was putting on a mask.
On one of the days I visited him at school, Blaine looked like he was ignoring the dress code as much as possible. His blazer was hanging open, flaunting the fact that he was missing his tie, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was curling wildly around his head, and his socks were nonexistent.
"Come on," I sighed, pushing him forwards. My school had the day off that day and my parents were busy, so I was forced to follow Blaine around all day at his school since I wasn't trusted to be home all day without throwing a party. A few of the boys checked me out, but Blaine got a little protective and hid me under his arm.
I had tried my best to put together an outfit close to the Dalton uniform, finding a navy blue jacket similar to the school's to put over a white blouse and stealing one of Blaine's ties. I finished it off with black tights and a grey knee-length pleated skirt, and viola! Female uniform. Unfortunately, the only shoes I could find were black and they looked like tap shoes with the metal removed, but hey, you can't have everything.
"Let's go, Blaine," I said, tugging him along to his math class. I knew the school enough to know where everything was and had studied my little brother's schedule the night before. He rolled his eyes and wiggled out of my grip, tucking me under his arm again and leading me down the hall. Even with his badboy act, Blaine never cut class at Dalton, though if he was at Sampson with me I'd be completely wrong.
The teachers knew me here, though one substitute asked me what I was doing in an all-boys private academy. Some students caught Blaine's death glare, though it didn't seem to affect the teacher. They assured him that I was with Blaine and I came here all the time, but the professor called the headmaster just to check.
Starting that day, I prayed for Blaine to get better.
~o0o~
He did get better. Not slowly, but all at once. When he had found Kurt and Quinn singing in our basement, I saw the look on his face. A look I hadn't seen in years. We had moved from Westerville to Lima, forcing Blaine to leave Dalton and join me at McKinley high. He skipped class and hung out with the football jocks, though I noticed that when the latter started happening Kurt, Quinn and I got slushied about ninety-nine percent less. He started openly flirting with Kurt and Quinn, the latter just jokingly because everyone knew he played for the other team.
Then, about six months after I saw the real Blaine back for that split second, I saw him in the choir room during lunch. Holding Kurt's hand. He looked like he'd been crying, but refused to show it. Just to check if he was back to himself, I made a comment about his presence in the room. He spit back a snarky reply and I hid my disappointment.
I cornered Kurt in the parking lot at the end of the day, then brought him home and held him there until Blaine confessed that he'd told him. I let them stay in my room for a bit while I spoke to my father, but found them both fast asleep on my bed when I came back. They looked so... right together that I didn't bother to disturb them. I shot Quinn a text letting her know that her brother wouldn't be home along with a picture of the two cuddled up on my bed. She sent me a smiley face in response. I threw a blanket on top of my brother and his "friend" and took over his room.
I had Blaine back.
Finally.
~o0o~
A/N: Fifteen pages on OpenOffice and 6920 words long, not including the A/N's, song lyrics, or ~o0o~ things. And it took two and a half weeks. And I'm 12.
INSANITY.
On a somewhat unrelated note, I'm abandoning "Guardian" and am putting KO on a bit of a hiatus. I'm out of ideas, so if you have any I would love to hear them! *wink wink nudge nudge*
Wanna follow me on tumblr? My URL is the same as my pen name here (omigoditschriscolfer).
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Want me to beta a story for you? PM me and I'll get back to you!
Yes, that was shameless self promotion. Go me.
I made up the school Rachel goes to. If it actually exists, I didn't know.
Rachel was popular at Sampson. Just to clarify.
I'm going to a concert tonight! Hedley Shipwrecked tour 2012 at the Barrie Molson Centre! Floor seats! 9th row!
YAAAAAY!
OKAY GOODBYE.