Author's Notes: Written for the glee_angst_meme, the prompt: "Blaine was kidnapped when he was 13-15 years old by a pedophile. The man kept him for almost two weeks, constantly molesting him. The police found him but he was traumatized. His parents moved him to Dalton to start new and because they didn't know how to deal with him. Finally, Blaine feels comfortable enough with Kurt that they begin to date. Kurt thinks that Blaine's hesitation is just him being a gentleman so he gets frustrated when their relationship moved very slowly in the physical sense. Kurt is soon determined to move beyond kisses and tries to push harder one night. Blaine is a little nervous but wants to be with Kurt so he tries to crush down his fear. Then Kurt says something that the man did and triggers a full blown flashback to that time. Kurt is horrified by Blaine's reaction and finds out about his past making him feel incredibly guilty for pushing."

Warning: This is triggery stuff, involving the abduction and sexual abuse of a minor, along with rather coercive sexual conduct. Be careful.


Dollhouse

His boy is beautiful.

It happens one day as he's walking down the street, and a hidden lump in the pavement manages to trip his cart and send the contents to the ground. Goddammit.

He looks around aimlessly, half-hoping someone will come help him. They all walk on by, consumed in the cellphones and iPods and whatnot. Figures. He sighs and slowly sets about going down to pick up his things, cringing at the strain on his knees. As he reaches for the first item, he suddenly finds another pair of hands in front of his.

"Do you need help, sir?"

Sir. It's been a long time since someone's bothered to call him that. He smiles and looks up at the boy; short, dark, handsome; fifteen years at most. Still, he gives the air of someone much older (and, to be honest, taller).

"Yes. Thank you."

"No problem," the boy says with a smile as he deftly scoops groceries up and places them in the basket. The quick work of his hands is enchanting.

Soon, the items have all been rescued and the cart returned to an upright position. The boy offers him a hand so he can be similarly returned.

"Well, I repeat: thank you, young Mr...?"

"Anderson. Blaine Anderson."

"Thank you, Mr. Anderson. Not everyone your age would stop to help out a daft old man like me, after all."

"You can hardly blame us all; we have grown up with the whole idea of Stranger Danger, although the vast majority of child sexual abuse is committed by a person known to the victim anyway." He's a little unsettled by the boy just knowing that and blurting it out in lieu of nothing, but the boy – Blaine – keeps talking before he can dwell on it. "And I don't think you're... well, actually, I do think you're old. Um, sorry."

"Ain't no shame in calling a spade a spade, son," he laughs. Blaine looks relieved.

"Well, alright then. Goodbye. It was nice meeting you, Mr...?"

"Andrew Carper," he says as Blaine shakes his hand. "Nice to meet you too."

Blaine gives him a professional-looking nod, before going on his way. Andrew looks as the boy walks.

Very, very beautiful.


His boyfriend is gorgeous.

They've been dating a couple of months, and Kurt feels like a drunkard nowadays. An addict. He's hooked on his Blaine; his old-fashioned respect, his effortless charm, the feel of Blaine's body shifting underneath him as he touches as much as he possibly can.

Speaking of which.

"Kurt, slow down," Blaine tells him, gently trying to pry Kurt's hands from where they have come to rest on his ass. Kurt defies this, planting another kiss on Blaine's jaw.

"Why," he whispers, as close to sultry as he can possibly get (he doesn't think he's very good at playing sexy, but practice makes perfect, right?). "Don't you want me to touch you?"

"I just think you're going too fast..." Blaine says.

"I don't think so," Kurt answers, arching his back off the bed to press his body closer against Blaine's. "Just trust me?" he says, squeezing gently.

Blaine cringes, and nervously looks over his shoulder. "Kurt, knock it off."

"Blaine–"

"I'm serious."

Well, he can't keep going if Blaine won't change his mind. He makes a big show of sighing dramatically and obediently lowering his hands to the bedspread, like a good little boy. "There," he says. "Absolutely no sticky fingers."

Blaine gives a little sigh, like – relief? Oh god. Blaine doesn't want him! If Blaine doesn't want him, at all, that means – he doesn't even know what that means, but–

His paranoid internal babbling is cut off by Blaine coming down and kissing him fiercely once again. Huh. Well, that's confusing.

"Wait, Blaine," he mumbles, and Blaine immediately pulls away.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"Hardly," Kurt says, biting his lip to keep the do you want to? firmly under wraps. "I'm just a little confused. I mean, you want to make out with me but you don't want me to... touch you?"

Blaine looks anxious. "Um... yes?"

"But why?" Kurt asks without missing a beat. "What are you so scared of?"

"Nothing," Blaine says. "I'm just... taking it slow."

"It's been two months, and I can't even put my hands on your...? That's not slow, Blaine, that's laws-of-time defying."

Blaine glares at him. "Okay, Kurt, just because we're dating does not mean I owe you anything, at any particular time. I'm doing what feels right for me, and you really need to respect that."

Blaine turns the other way. Kurt sighs and sits up, resting his chin on Blaine's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to pressure you or anything."

Blaine sighs, and this becomes one of the few moments where Kurt realizes just how small Blaine really is – smaller than him. "It's okay," he says. "I think I overreacted."

Kurt smiles, gently pressing a kiss against Blaine's neck. "It just..." He sighs, trying to figure out a way to say this that won't sound horrible. "Just, when you pull away... I don't know, sometimes it makes me feel like... like you don't want me. And I know it's irrational, but... well, you know how insecure I can be."

"Of course I want you," Blaine says, turning back to kiss him again. Kurt smiles against Blaine's mouth, wrapping a hand around his neck.

"Come on, let's just stay here," he says. Blaine raises an eyebrow, and Kurt raises his hands in a surrender pose. "I promise to hold back on the touching."

Blaine grins and Kurt finds himself falling back on the bed, Blaine crawling on top of him. He loses himself in the kiss, and every instinct of his is telling him to reach out and touch. Anything and everything he can get his hands on. But he can't, because Blaine will be mad at him, goddammit.

Blaine breaks the kiss fairly promptly. Tell me he didn't manage to read my thoughts, Kurt panics. But Blaine gives him an apologetic smile, so Kurt assumes he's not breaking it because he's mad. "Actually, I have to get to Chemistry about now. Sorry."

Kurt pouts. "Really?" He aims another kiss at Blaine, who dodges it, but he's grinning this time so Kurt doesn't really worry. "I mean, it's green and it smells. What more do you need to know?"

Blaine rolls his eyes. "Come on, Kurt. I'd never get away with skipping class here. Think about my academic future; don't be so selfish."

"I prefer to think of it as making myself my number one priority," Kurt says, and Blaine smiles at him.

"One of the many things I love about you," and okay, he cannot possibly expect Kurt to keep debating if he's going to say something like that. Kurt flushes pink, and Blaine leans down to give him one last peck.

"See you," he says.

Then Blaine's up and out the door, and Kurt relaxes against his bed with a somewhat embarrassing sigh. All in all, the progress of his relationship with his unbelievably beautiful boyfriend has been amazing so far.

Minus the horrific blue balls, that is.


He doesn't do it on purpose. Well, he sort of does. He's thinking about his niece Lucy, and how she must be eighteen by now – she'll be graduating this year, surely? (Hannah hasn't let him see her for four years. Luce always was an ungrateful bitch who didn't know when to keep her mouth shut.) Does she still go to that same school?

Somehow, he winds up looking up whether she does or not (why did they make a roster of students so easy to access from the main school website? It's terrible security). She doesn't. However, he gets distracted and winds up looking up the rosters for the lower year levels.

He finds a name he recognizes amongst the sophomores. Blaine Anderson.

Huh.


Blaine takes him out to dinner that Saturday. It requires an inordinate amount of red-tape cutting, to get a few hours where they do not have to be on campus, but Blaine manages it. He also finds the most expensive, ridiculous restaurant possible – it's French! They wear suits! Kurt has never felt happier, or more stupid. It's remarkably enchanting.

"Well, I have to give you full marks for the romance aspect of it," Kurt informs Blaine. His boyfriend accepts the compliment with a gracious nod.

"I try."

"Yes. Well, if like every other boy on the planet, you have done the whole romance thing as an elaborate scheme to make me put out... I could be okay with that."

Blaine hesitates, forkful of food halfway to his mouth. "Tell me you're kidding?"

Kurt sighs. "Yes, Blaine, I'm kidding."

He's half-kidding, really. He knew Blaine would never actually be doing that – not after how little they have done. He believes he's going to have to force his way through a lot more trials if he is ever to find the magical entrance to Blaine's Pants. One step at a time. However, it didn't stop him wishing like hell Blaine would have thought about them and decided they were ready; that this was Blaine wooing him into bed in the most perfect manner possible.

Yet again, Blaine's perfection as a boyfriend is being ever-so-slightly undermined by the fact he is a fucking prude.

Kurt completely promises to help out tutor the struggling freshmen doing French to karmically compensate for that thought.

He can't help it, though. He is, for all the fashion and moisturizer and whatnot, a teenage boy. A teenage boy with hormones. A teenage boy with hormones that he had forced to become resigned to the fact they were not going to be getting much, if any action until college at least. A teenage boy with hormones that got very excited at the fact this may not prove to be the case, and are very disappointed at the fact that so far it is.

Kurt doesn't want to push Blaine – he loves Blaine – but to be crude, he kind of has blue balls here.

No, no, he does not have blue balls. Blue is too broad a color. He has navy balls; he has cyan balls; he has sky blue balls; he has indigo balls; he has every fucking form of the color blue covering his balls as the pressure becomes entirely too much. Does Blaine not work like anyone else? Is he a robot?

To be honest, Kurt's fairly sure Blaine's not doing it for himself. When they first got together, Kurt new Blaine was worried about his... inexperience, and of course the aftereffects of one David Karofsky. Not for what they would do to him – Blaine is far too much of a gentleman to be selfish about something like that – but because he wasn't sure Kurt was ready for a proper relationship. So he's most likely holding out because he certainly does not expect Kurt to be ready for sex.

Which really, given Kurt has made his position on such matters quite clear multiple times, is quite annoying and patronizing. To be blunt – screw inexperience and trauma; he's seventeen; he wants to get laid.

Okay, where was he? Reality?

"Anyway," Blaine is saying. "You'd never fit in my bed."

They wind up making out in the backseat of Blaine's car. Kurt is on top, legs spread across Blaine's hips, and Blaine's head is pressed against the window. Kurt has one hand behind his neck and one roaming his chest through the shirt (one of the few areas he is allowed to touch. All he can say is, thank god he's gay). It's probably incredibly lewd-looking, and he finds he doesn't mind.

"Kurt," Blaine mutters, and Kurt just keeps kissing him. And he winds up tugging at the hem of Blaine's shirt, pulling it out and sneaking his hands underneath. Blaine freezes.

"Kurt?"

Kurt sighs and pulls back. That is not a good tone of voice. "Blaine?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was trying to get under your shirt, at least. And you're about to tell me to stop, aren't you?"

Blaine nods. Kurt sighs and immediately pulls his hands away.

"I'm sorry. But – I know you want to take it slow, but I just thought this was... small."

Blaine looks away and starts focusing on the floor. Kurt frowns.

"You don't have to worry about me, you know. I know what I'm doing."

"I know," says Blaine. "Come on. We need to get back home. To school. Wherever we live."

Kurt sighs and obediently crawls off, so Blaine can get up and open the door. He does so, and stands there holding it open for Kurt. Kurt rolls his eyes and grasps for Blaine's free hand, parodying any old-fashioned movie.

"Ever the gentleman."


He really should not be here. Really, he shouldn't. Lurking outside any school is really just going to get you on an FBI watchlist. And it's hardly like he can explain to Blaine he's come to see him; the boy will just ask how the hell Andrew knew where he went to school, given it's a public school – no uniforms. He'll think Andrew's a stalker. Maybe he is a stalker.

He can't help it, though. The boy was so kind and enchanting. Andrew wants to see him again.

He gets his wish pretty quickly. He recognizes the short boy with the dark hair, flurrying past him. Then he realizes how upset Blaine looks, and it makes him mad – he's never liked the look of human suffering – but it's an excuse to talk to him, which was a part of the plan he was struggling with.

"Kid! Are you okay?"

Blaine looks up, staring at him with a real deer-in-the-headlights face. His eyes look red. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine." He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Andrew raises an eyebrow at him. "You don't look fine. In fact – hey, I remember you. You were the kid who helped me out with my stuff a couple of weeks ago?"

"Oh yeah, I remember that," Blaine says. "Well – small world."

"Yeah." Yes, he's lying through his teeth, but Blaine will be scared of him if he doesn't, won't he? "Well, come on – why don't we talk? You helped me, and I'm not really one for letting a kid go home crying without trying to help."

Blaine looks uncertain. "That's probably not a good idea," he says. "I mean, I hardly know you."

"Do you think you'll be able to talk about it to anyone you do know? Put this burden on them?"

Blaine hesitates, and Andrew can see the answer on his face. Poor kid. Innocent victim with too much of a messiah complex to ask for help.

"You feel like you want to talk about it?"

Blaine sighs and makes his way over, leaning against Andrew's car. "It's nothing important, really," he says. "Just the stuff that happens every day. I don't know why it got to me today. Sure as hell don't know why it got me crying."

"Everyone has days where they can't cope with much, and days when they can cope with anything – people are strange like that," Andrew tells him. "What sort of stuff do you mean?"

Blaine shrugs. "Just stupid stuff. Names. Following me around. Taking my stuff. Anything you'd see on a very special episode about bullying."

"Ah," says Andrew. "You think it's stupid, don't you? That it gets to you so much, when you don't really think it's worth it."

"You don't get credit for reading my mind when I just told you that, you know."

Andrew can't help but laugh. Then he thinks. "You know, an attack on a man's brain can destroy him far more than fists. You don't have to be ashamed of that. I bet they know that."

Blaine shrugs. "Maybe. Then again, most of them are guys, so they're probably scared to touch me."

"Wait, why would they be..." it takes a second for it to slide into place. "Ah. They think you're gay."

"Yeah."

"Why do they think that?"

"Well, the fact I am probably has something to do with it."

"...Oh."

Blaine suddenly looks very anxious. "I'm sorry, if you're not comfortable with that–"

"I'm fine with it, Blaine," Andrew tells him. Blaine looks surprised. "What, you think just because I'm old I'm homophobic? Because ageism isn't a great thing to carry either, you know."

Blaine smiles. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Look," he gently lays a comforting hand on Blaine's shoulder, "I'm not afraid to touch you."

Blaine nods, but doesn't answer. It's nice, to be close to such a boy, and feel... trusted. Welcomed, even.

"Anyway," he says. "Let me drive you home."

"Sure," says Blaine, walking over to the other side of the vehicle. "You might have to drop me off a block away, though. Not sure my parents would be happy to see me getting out of a mysterious man's car."


He really shouldn't be doing this. It's an incredibly bad idea. But really, if Blaine is going to sit there looking so absolutely delicious, it's his own damn fault.

"Blaine," he whispers in his boyfriend's ear, distracting him briefly from the ridiculously boring speech the principal is making.

"Hmm?" Blaine mumbles, and Kurt smiles, slowly sliding a hand up his thigh. Blaine holds his breath. "Kurt, stop it."

"Why?" Kurt asks. "Bet I'm more interesting than... whatever they're going on about now, I stopped paying attention. Come on, Blaine."

Blaine's frozen for a second, then slaps his hand away. "Kurt, I mean it."

That was a bit louder than it needed to be, and a few of the guys sitting around them stare. Kurt raises his hands in a surrender pose, before putting them down on the table, pouting. Well that went well.

Once the meeting is over, Blaine rushes off in front of him. Kurt's confused.

"Blaine, wait!"

Blaine turns back. "What is it, Kurt?"

Kurt frowns at him. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? How could you do that to me, Kurt?"

Kurt blinks. "How could I do... what?"

"That!" They're starting to gather the attention of the crowd. "Kurt, I told you, I want you to–"

"Take it slow, I know. But you told me to stop and I stopped; I don't see what I did wrong; just, calm down, Blaine; it's not like I see you angry often, so this is..."

Kurt bites his lip and Blaine inhales deeply. "Alright. I'll calm down. But Kurt... you had no right to do that, when you know the way I usually am about physical contact, especially not to do it in public where I'd feel most uncomfortable. Okay, I'm your boyfriend. But that does not make me, or my body... some kind of toy you can play around with whenever you're bored."

"For god's sakes, Blaine," Kurt says, disbelieving. "Okay, I'm sorry. But stop trying to make me sound like some kind of... rapist because I dared to touch your leg."

Blaine doesn't answer, and Kurt is managing to work himself into a righteous little snit.

"Actually, why can't I ever make a move on our relationship? I mean, you were flirty and touchy from the day we met – you sang a song to me, in front of everyone, and if I wasn't interested that would have been bizarre behavior, Blaine. So you can take us wherever you want, but as soon as I push you panic. Why don't I have the same rights as you do? Am I meant to be the girl or something?"

"Kurt, that's insane–"

"You say that, but I'm not finding a better reason for it. In which case, that is – sexist, and heteronormative, and patronizing, and – and – you're too short anyway!"

Blaine blinks. Okay, that last point was stupid.

"Kurt–"

"Don't, Blaine," he says. He inhales deeply. "I apologize, if I have made you feel uncomfortable. But you do not have some divine power over me – or at least, you shouldn't have. Equals? And if you can't get that, well, screw it."

Kurt flounces off dramatically, not listening to Blaine call his name.


Andrew thinks he and Blaine are friends now. He sees the boy every so often, and they talk. It's nice. It makes him feel... appreciated.

Blaine blinks as he sees Andrew's car park up beside him. "Hey," he says, winding the window down. "What are you doing, kid?"

"Walking home?" Blaine says. "What are you doing here?"

Andrew shrugs. "Driving. On my way home from the supermarket."

Okay, after Andrew meant Blaine he did change his usual route home to go by this street. It takes a little longer, but it's not like he has many friends; is it so awful he goes out of his way to see one of them?

"Oh," says Blaine.

"Come on, I'll drive you home," Andrew offers.

Blaine frowns. "I don't want you to go out of your way."

"I don't mind."

"I could just walk."

"But why bother? Come on, Blaine, it's been awhile. We need to catch up."

Blaine looks around, and sighs. "Fine," he says, walking around to the other side of the car.

Andrew smiles at him. "Have you been avoiding me? I've kind of missed you, kid."

He squeezes Blaine's shoulder warmly, but Blaine leans away. Huh.


Blaine shows up at his door. Kurt gives him a nervous smile.

"Did you get my text?"

Blaine nods. "All thirty of them. Although I may have skipped reading one or two. You understand."

Kurt blushes and looks down at the floor. "Well, you didn't text me back."

Blaine chuckles and steps inside, sweeping Kurt into a hug.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Me too," Kurt replies, "as you may have gathered from my inordinate amount of texts."

Blaine pulls back. "I overreacted."

"I shouldn't have done it in the first place," Kurt replies. "I mean, I know how slow you want to take it – I should have known you'd react badly. I'm sorry."

"You've said that. Thirty-two times, counting that one."

"Does what I text count? That's not speaking."

"Whatever," Blaine answers. "So... you want to come hang out in my room tonight? Note: I'm not putting out, I just want to spend time, and I can't be bothered going through all the paperwork to get off campus."

"If we get caught, we're in trouble," Kurt says.

"I can live with it."

Kurt grins. Oh, this better be the resolution to every fight. "You rebel."


"So, Blaine," Andrew says, putting an arm around the boy's shoulders. "What did you want to talk about?"

Blaine cringes and pulls away. "It's that," Blaine says. Andrew frowns. "The touchy-feely stuff. Look, I'm sure you don't mean anything by it, but... you're sort of making me uncomfortable. Not to mention, you kind of tend to show up out of nowhere, which isn't all that reassuring either. Um... Sorry."

"Don't be," Andrew says automatically. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you uncomfortable, Blaine, I just... guess I'm a little bad with social cues."

Blaine sighs. "It's alright."

"No, it's not alright," Andrew answers. "Do you want a cup of tea or something?"

"It makes me feel un-American, but sure."

Andrew nods and walks off into the kitchen. He thinks. Blaine doesn't want him to touch him. Blaine doesn't want him around. Blaine is scared of him. Andrew has lost Blaine, and he can't cope with that. He has so little. He must get the boy back.

Andrew finishes making the tea with his hands shaking and takes it out to where Blaine's sitting. The boy sips politely.

"So," says Blaine. "I guess that's that then."

Andrew nods.

Ten minutes later, Blaine has passed out.


Kurt rather likes Blaine's room. After all, he rather likes Blaine, so the room's connection to him gets them off on the right foot.

He's pretty sure they were meant to be doing something, but really they're just making out on the bed. Which is not particularly unusual. Kurt's trying to keep his hands to himself, but does Blaine really have to do that with his tongue and make it so... difficult (he does not want to use the other word, because that is not happening. It is not. Blaine would kill him).

"Mmm," Kurt finds himself moaning as Blaine breaks away from his mouth, pressing kisses down his neck. "Blaine." And his boyfriend's hands are gripping his sides tightly, nails pressing through the fabric of the uniform, and all in all it is really unfairly sexy.

"You're beautiful, Kurt," Blaine whispers, and Kurt's nerves sizzle; his blood pulses. Because, for all the wildly attractive things about Blaine Anderson, none of them turn him on like just how much Blaine loves him.

Those fingers are still at his side, gripping him, almost bruising him; a maddeningly sexual touch that almost makes Kurt want to scream. He's being respectful. He must be. But god, he wants Blaine so bad.

And why should he be ashamed of that? He has a wildly attractive boyfriend; of course he wants sex or that which closely resembles it.

He wants. Can he just... ask again? Make Blaine give him a reason? If it's anything other than 'for your own good', he will accept that readily, but he needs to know why or his hormones will not stop whining (and his mind won't stop worrying that he's just not desirable).

His hands are under Blaine's shirt again, pushing up the fabric and gently tugging at the hair there. Blaine pulls away and stares at him – he doesn't look scared or hurt or angry, just... confused.

"Kurt."

"Tell me to stop, and I'll stop," Kurt says seriously. Blaine doesn't stop him. Kurt dares to place his hands up further, and Blaine inhales deeply.

"...Why do you want me so badly?" Blaine asks.


"Blaine? Wake up, kid."

His eyes flutter open, as he groggily becomes aware of the rope restraining him. He looks very, very scared. "What the – where am I? Andrew – what the hell are you doing?"

Blaine struggles against his bonds, and Andrew sighs sadly. He does regret that it's come to this. "You scared me, kid," he says.

Blaine seems incredulous. "I scared you?"

"You distrusted me. I felt like I'd lost you," he explains. "I thought we had something special."

"And you found out you were wrong, so you... apparently drugged me, then tied me up in your basement; that a great way of regaining my trust, you know."

Andrew smiles, running a hand over Blaine's face. Blaine flinches away from him. "You're putting up a brave face. Pretending you're not scared. Trying to spite me. It's an admirable quality."

Blaine struggles against the ropes more, and Andrew grabs his arms to stop him. "Don't. You'll hurt yourself."

"You really care if I hurt myself?"

"Of course," Andrew says. Blaine seems confused. "Blaine, I did this because... I care about you. I want you. I can't lose you."

"You've lost me," Blaine snaps. "You've lost me in every possible way. Including a logical way – I have no idea what you're talking about."

Andrew sighs. "Let me explain."

Then he leans over, and kisses the boy on the lips.

"Eargh!" Blaine cries in protest, mouth shut tight and body pressed as far away as the ropes will allow. Andrew pulls back with a smile.

"This is how I'm keeping you," he says. "Blaine, this is us. This is what it was all coming too, all along."

"Has anyone ever told you you're crazy?"

"Many times. They're probably right. Does mean I'm doing the wrong thing though."

Blaine still stares at him like he's a monster. God, the boy is even more beautiful like this – shocked, horrified and defiant. He is so good. So noble and pure. How could he be expected to let all that go?

He brings his hand to the zip off Blaine's pants, reaching inside. Blaine's eyes go wide, fear showing openly, and he starts thrashing against his bonds.

"No, no, no!" he screams, "don't touch me!"

"Shh, shh, shh," Andrew hushes him, and when that doesn't work, he silences the boy with a kiss. Blaine cringes away from him, but he stops.

He brings one hand to Blaine's fly and starts rubbing against his (still underwear-clad, unfortunately) member. Blaine shakes his head.

"No," he says. "Stop. Stop, Andrew, please. I don't want this."

"Not now," Andrew tells him. "It's sad, really. Just... hold on. You'll learn to love me. You don't really have a choice."

Blaine looks scared and hurt and angry, and flinches away as Andrew strokes him again and leans in to kiss him. "You're amazing, Blaine," he says. "You're my boy for a reason."


Kurt blinks. "...Huh?"

"Why do you want me so badly?"

Kurt blinks. "Because I'm in love with you?"

Blaine's mouth forms a small 'o'.

Kurt sighs. He doesn't really want to say this, but... "This is going to sound stupid, but a lot of the time when – well, people were making my life a misery, I had rather vengeful fantasies. Specifically, 'the best revenge is living well'? I always imagined... I'd get the perfect life, and the perfect boyfriend, and you are very much playing the latter. And admittedly, because I'm immature, us being able to fuck like bunnies was also part of my fantasies. Okay, that's part of some very different fantasies too, but..."

Blaine looks at him strangely. "It means that much to you?"

Kurt bites his lip. "I don't want to make you feel – but, well–"

And they're rolling. He's on top of Blaine suddenly, and stares down at him in confusion. Blaine takes a breath.

"Alright then," he says. "We're in love. Why not?"

Kurt blinks. "Are you sure?"

Blaine nods. "I love you."

Kurt grins and leans down to kiss him again. He lets his tongue explore as his hands do just the same, pushing at Blaine's shirt and mapping the area below his waist. He actually lets his hand settle on Blaine's cock. Blaine shivers, but doesn't pull away.

"I love you. You're amazing," Kurt whispers against Blaine's mouth. "You're my boyfriend for a reason."

Something strange happens then. Blaine freezes.

And then he starts screaming.


"Help! Help me I'm down here!"

"Shh!" Andrew hushes him, and shoves the boy against the wall. God, he lets the boy out of the ropes and this is what he gets?

It's too late. The door is knocked down, and he winces at the sudden flood of light. "Police! Stay where you are!"

Andrew sighs, represses the urge to cry, and raises his hands in surrender. God, he doesn't even know how the police found out. There's no way Blaine could have called them – the room wouldn't allow that (he'd love to say Blaine wouldn't, but he's not that naive. They didn't have enough time, that's all).

One of the officers flinches as he sees Blaine's nakedness. "It's going to be okay, kid," he says, gently patting Blaine on the shoulder. Don't you dare touch him, Andrew thinks. Blaine whimpers and leans away from the man. That's my boy.

There are cuffs around his wrists and he's being led out of his house; publicly shamed. It's so unfair. They just don't understand.

The worst bit is, he really has lost Blaine now he's being forced away.


"Blaine, Blaine, calm down!" Kurt desperately tries to comfort his boyfriend, to no avail. Blaine thrashes all over the place, hitting and kicking Kurt as much as he can.

"No, no, stop, get off me, let me go! Let me go!"

Kurt's on his side next to Blaine by now, hands raised in the air. "Blaine, I'm not keeping you here, it's okay! Just calm down, okay? It's okay; I'm not keeping you; it's okay."

Blaine's screams die out and he stops thrashing. He lies there, staring at Kurt wild-eyed and confused. "Kurt?"

Kurt gives a heavy sigh of relief. "Yes, it's me," he sees. "It's okay, Blaine. I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay."

Blaine still looks confused. Kurt's never seen him like this before – Blaine's always been so put-together and composed. Kurt loves him for that. What just happened was absolute insanity, and it's terrifying.

Kurt's not expecting what happens next.

Blaine laughs.

"Blaine?" he asks, because that's not normal laughter – it's high pitched and hysterical. Sure enough, Blaine quickly descends into sobs that make Kurt's heart hurt.

"Sorry," Blaine manages. "I shouldn't have – I just–"

"Blaine it's okay. Come here." Kurt pulls Blaine into his arms, and lets him sob with abandon. He's scared and he's confused, and he doesn't know what's wrong with his boyfriend, but he knows he has to do something about Blaine crying like that.

Eventually, Blaine pulls himself together and pulls back to look Kurt in the eye. "Sorry," he says. "I guess I panicked."

Kurt frowns at him. "What's wrong? That scared me just then."

Blaine bites his lip and looks away.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Kurt says.

"I want to," Blaine answers. "I just... I'm sorry."

"Please stop apologizing to me," Kurt says. Blaine nods. He inhales deeply.

"Before I'm start, I'm going to tell you this whole story is traumatic and insane. Just as a warning." Kurt frowns and nods. "When I was fifteen, I met a man. Andrew Carper. He seemed like a nice, lonely old man, and... well, I guess he became a friend. But it was... his actions seemed, well, off. They made me uncomfortable. He'd show up from nowhere; he'd be a bit too touchy-feely... just stuff."

Kurt's stomach starts to hurt. He can tell where this is going – he had no idea...

"Oh god, Blaine–"

"I thought he wasn't doing it on purpose, so... I went over to his house to try and talk to him. Tell him he was making me uncomfortable. And he was all remorseful... and he gave me a cup of tea. I woke up a few hours later, tied up in his basement."

Kurt cringes.

"He held me there for two weeks, Kurt," Blaine says, obviously fighting back tears again. "And he was always... touching me, and, well, other sexual abuse. He told me he loved me. That he didn't want to lose me. It was insane, Kurt."

"It sounds that way," Kurt says.

"After a couple of weeks, the police found me. I was rescued; he was sent to prison... it was over. God, I'm so stupid."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Blaine shakes his head. "I shouldn't be like this anymore, Kurt."


"Blaine," Andrew says at the boy sitting on the other side of the glass. "I wasn't expecting this."

Blaine winces. "Don't smile like you're happy to see me," he says. And yes, Andrew's smile does falter – he was hoping Blaine having come here would mean he'd seen reason. Apparently not. "I don't even know why I'm here."

"Well, if you're asking – not sure how I'm meant to know, kid."

Blaine just stares. "You realize you're infamous, right? Everyone knows who you are; they hate you."

Andrew sighs. "I guessed as much. The masses tend to be... well, rather stupid. I suppose I'm just lucky I don't have to talk to anyone anymore, huh?"

Blaine's eyes are starting to look shiny and glazed over. "You're disgusting," he says, voice cracking with grief. It makes Andrew's stomach hurt.

"Blaine, don't cry," he says. "Please. I only want what's best for you."

"What's best for me?" Blaine asks, obviously disbelieving. "I can't sleep anymore, I can't eat, I can't go into a basement or look at a piece of rope, I sure as hell can't cope with the rest of my life – and that's what's best for me?"

The boy was left half-done and it broke him. It's tragic. "If only we had more time," Andrew muses.

Blaine looks uncomprehending. "...Why? I mean... how? How could you do this to me?"

Andrew blinks. Isn't it obvious? "I love you. Didn't I tell you that a million times?"

Blaine shakes his head. "I have no idea what your problem is, Andrew Carper, but it's not love. Not in a million years. You're just a sick, deranged old pervert with no idea how fucked up you really are."

"You don't swear much, Blaine. I don't like it. It's not you," he says. He was drawn to Blaine for being so kind and noble; a proper gentleman – he doesn't want that image ruined.

"I don't care," says Blaine.

"Don't let yourself go because you're angry, Blaine," Andrew tells him. Blaine glares. "Look, you may not feel the same way about me as I feel about you – damn cops ruined that – but take my advice. It's not worth it to break because of this, whether you blame me or not. You're better than that."

"Don't talk like we're friends," Blaine says. But we are, thinks Andrew, but it's not true anymore. Another thing he's been robbed of. "But I won't. Break. I am. Better than that. You have no idea how much better than that I am. I still help out old people in the street when I see they've dropped their groceries, you know? You don't own me."

Andrew smiles. "That's nice. Your courtesy is what attracted me to you in the first place, you know."

And then Blaine sobs. Oh, goddamit, Andrew thinks.

"Fuck you," the boy spits out. Andrew frowns. "Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

"Blaine–"

"Fuck you!" Other people are starting to stare now. Blaine drops the phone and jumps up, but Andrew can see what he's mouthing. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..."

A guard comes in and interferes, trying to drag Blaine outside. Blaine quickly collapses, and leaves with no resistance. Andrew sighs sadly.

Well, he guesses that's that then.


Kurt blinks at his boyfriend. "I don't understand."

Blaine sighs. "I promised myself I wouldn't let it rule my life," he explains. "I promised I'd be able to do anything anyone else could. And just then – I guess I broke that promise."

"Blaine, you don't owe anyone–"

"You wanted it, Kurt. You needed it. You wouldn't shut up about it. And I knew, like a normal person, like a good boyfriend, I should just... go for it, but I thought about everything that happened even when I tried not to and... I couldn't. I didn't want to be some... emotional cripple who couldn't do that for you, so I tried. I tried really hard, Kurt. But then you said something... It reminded me of something he once said. And I guess I had a bit of a flashback."

Kurt's stomach starts hurting. Everything Blaine just said – you needed it; you wouldn't shut up about it – makes him realize something that, in retrospect, is quite obvious.

"Oh god, I was – I was pressuring you, wasn't I?"

"Kurt–"

"I was! You told me time and time again to cool down; you weren't ready for much sexual contact, and I just brazenly walked all over it. I – I wanted what I wanted, and I thought, of course, you must only be holding back because you thought I wasn't ready. I couldn't even acknowledge there was a side to this relationship that didn't revolve around me. I was selfish, and cruel, and borderline abusive even and – if you're going to dump me, now would be a good time."

"Kurt, no," Blaine says. "You weren't – well, I guess you were. And that's not good, but... You didn't know about all this. I should have explained."

"So what, you only have the right to not fuck me if you present a good excuse? A medical certificate, like an exam?" Kurt says. "I fucked up, Blaine. Get angry at me, please."

"Kurt, stop it," Blaine snaps. Kurt's taken aback. "I've lost a lot of things because of this. I wound up here for a reason. Don't make me lose you too."

Kurt frowns. "...I thought you said you came here because, of, well bullying?" he asks. "Oh, wait, that was probably a cover–"

"Not exactly," Blaine says. "I... After what happened, well, no-one really knew; there are laws about revealing the names of minors in such cases and all. Everyone treated me the way they always had. And I hated myself for caring."

"...Huh?" Kurt asks.

"Think about it – I'd been drugged, kidnapped and molested for two weeks by a psychotic sexual predator. I'd seen true horror. I'd been through one of the most traumatic experiences possible, and was so far surviving it. I thought I should have some more... perspective. Juvenile bullying shouldn't have even touched me. Yet it did. It hurt. Especially with their focus on my sexuality, after my first real sexual experiences had been... I almost drove myself crazy over it. Eventually, my parents sent me here – a fresh start and all that." He pauses. "Sometimes, I think they just wanted to send me away so they wouldn't have to know how to cope with it anymore."

Kurt winces. "That's awful."

"They've done their best," Blaine says.

"Do just forgive everyone for everything?"

"I won't forgive him."

They settle into silence. Kurt sighs.

"I really am sorry," he says. "That this happened to you; that I was so disrespectful... You shouldn't have to do anything you don't want to."

"It shouldn't be such a problem anymore. I'm better than that. I'm stronger than that."

"You're not weak because you struggle every once in awhile, Blaine!" Kurt says. "Look at you. You went through one of the most traumatic things that can happen to anyone, like you said. I can't even begin to imagine what you went through. It's been almost three years, and you're still standing. That alone makes you the strongest man in the world to me."

Blaine smiles. "Thank you," he says. "I really do love you."

"I love you too," Kurt answers easily.

There's a brief pause.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Just hold me?"

Blaine rolls into him, and Kurt sighs as he wraps his arms around his boyfriend's body. He squeezes his eyes shut when he thinks of something so terrible happening; how he could have not figured it out; his own hideous behavior. He shakes the thoughts away though. The time to explore his horror, outrage, guilt, self-recrimination is later. For now, Blaine just needs him to be there.

And they lie there like that for the rest of the night.