A/N: So I was sat in my bedroom revising for this stupid maths GCSE I have to retake because I got a B (I was happy with a B but apparently a B is rubbish in my school as everyone else in my class got an A* but in my defence I have been a bit preoccupied lately) and it came up to my revision break and I saw my laptop and thought 'I should update my Glee stories, all of my stories' so I turned on my laptop and my desktop back ground is on a slide show and the first one that came up was a picture of Blaine boxing and so that little voice in my head said 'Ooh, before you update add another story about Blaine (you haven't done a Blaine story yet even though he is one of your favourite characters!) around the quote "It means that I am not for sale." So yes, I am starting a new story but yes, I will also be updating my other stories! But only if I get reviews otherwise I'll go into that place that I'm sure other writers go into when they don't get any reviews that is the 'I can't write anything good. What's the point of me updating?' But, uh, no pressure of anything
"It Means That I Am Not For Sale."
-Blaine Anderson, Hold onto Sixteen
Chapter One: What Do You Mean?
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I am not for sale!" He lunges at me and I reply without a second thought. Before I know what is happening I'm in a full fight with Sam. I couldn't help it, it was just that comment. One sentence opens up so many memories. Mr. Schuester is trying to pull us apart, Finn is trying to help him but I just give up. I snapped, I should never have snapped like that. I thought I was over it, the anger. I thought I knew how to control it but obviously not. I storm out of the classroom, the anger still bubbling in my chest, and hate myself for fighting with Sam, he didn't deserve it. I punch the nearest locker to me and regret it straight afterwards. My knuckles are hurting now and it triggers a something inside of me telling me to hit something else. Suddenly, I am remembering all of the therapy I had, the hours sat in a white room with some stranger expecting me to let out all my feelings. I remember that my therapist advised me to start boxing and that became my stress relief. I haven't needed it in so long but I think that now is a good time to pick it up again.
I run down to my locker and open it, revealing picture after picture of my little sister and me when we were younger, Kurt, the New Directions, the Warblers, everything and everyone that at some point saved me. I look up to the top shelf, behind all my folders and school books sit a pair of black gloves and some tape: my boxing things. Before I moved to McKinley High Wes slipped the gloves out of my draw at Dalton and told me to put them in my locker, I had said I wouldn't need them but once again Wesley Hughes was right. I grab the sweats I keep in my locker and head down to the gym.
When I reach the gym I make sure that nobody else is around and change into my sweats, take off my shirt to reveal my vest and slip off my shoes. I start to wrap the tape around my wrist properly but soon speed up when my vision locks on the punching bag and just how good it would be to hit it now. I slip on my gloves and leave the rest of the tape, my shirt and my jeans on the bench and run over to the worn red punching bag.
I stand there for a moment just anticipated my first move but before I know what's happening I am throwing mad punches to it. I stop and try to control myself slightly but when that doesn't work I just start punching the punches with as much power as I can hold. My shoulders start to sting slightly but I know that it is worth it to get my anger out, besides, it's better than hitting Sam again. Holding my anger in here is so much harder than at Dalton. At Dalton nobody would wind anyone else up, not in the way they do at McKinley anyway. At Dalton we would play pranks on each other but nobody would even dream of calling someone a horrible name, even if the no bullying policy wasn't enforced, the boys aren't like that. But here, here I only have to walk down a hallway to get abuse shouted at me.
Even glee club, a place where everyone is accepted, a place where we're all outcasts together, gets me angry now. Well, it's not Glee club as much as Finn. Every time I suggest something or back him up he shouts at me. It gets me so angry that I'm back to a place where my opinion doesn't matter.
But the thing that really annoys me about McKinley is the fact that nobody knows about my past, not even Kurt. I want to tell people but I know that I will be treated differently and that's not what I want.
I can hear someone breathing in the doorway, somebody is watching me and they are not being discrete. I turn quickly and see that it is only Finn so I resume beating the living hell out of the punching bag. His stare is so intense I can almost feel it burning holes in the back of my head. "Yes Finn, I box get over it."
"Since when?" Finn plods over and holds the punching bag allowing me to get a better aim and a stronger punch.
"Since… since I was bullied. Had to learn to fight my own battles my dad said." Finn didn't need to know about what caused most of the bullying. Or why I actually started boxing. I run my arm over my forehead and notice it comes back dripping in sweat, for the first time I realise that the gel must have run out of my hair.
"Right and I suppose that you are pretending that this is Sam's face?"
"Yep, yours too." I know that I will have to explain that comment so I throw my last punch and drop my arms down by my side stepping away from the bag. Finn follows my lead and drops his hands down walking around to face me. "What is your problem with me anyway?" Finn sighs and says,
"Honestly? I'm just jealous of your talent. Your voice is amazing but don't go telling me that I am what made you react like that in there." Noticing my hesitation he speaks up again, "Come on Blaine, you can tell me. You're, like, dating my brother, if you two ever get married-which everyone in New Directions thinks you will by the way- we'll be, like, brothers-in-law or something." I take off my gloves and the tape and slam them down on the bench before I sit down beside them. Finn followed in silence, joining me on the bench. I notice that he is sitting closer than usual but I don't point it out, it is strangely comforting. "Come on dude, what is it?"
"I just really don't want to 'sell sex' is all!" I shout. Finn's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at me raising my voice and annoyingly calmly replies,
"I just… I don't think it's appropriate for people our age to be…doing that. I'm just not comfortable with it."
"And that's what made you lash out at Sam like that? Dude, if you're uncomfortable you should've just said." He heavily puts his hand on my shoulder and I unconsciously flinch. "Wait, there's more isn't there? You don't have to be scared Blaine, I promise that I won't judge you."
"And that is what annoyed you so much? There's more. You don't have to be scared Blaine, I promise that I won't judge you." This is what I've been waiting for: someone at McKinley that I can tell about my past, someone that won't judge me. I don't have time to think about whether Finn is the right person because I'm just so happy that someone will listen.
"Sam didn't let me finish my sentence."
"Which one? The one where you told him that you weren't for sale?" I flinch again and Finn goes to apologise but I interrupt him,
"Yeah, that one. What I was going to say was 'I am not for sale… anymore'."
"Wait, anymore? Blaine you don't have to tell me this if you don't want to but what do you mean by anymore?" I cough once and stand up walking a small distance forward and swiftly turning back around to face Finn. I take a deep breath in and sigh breathlessly as a lone tear rolls down my face.
"I'm warning you," I whisper, "This is a long story."
"I have the time Blaine. If you need me, I will always have the time."
So yes, I started a new story but yes, I will also be updating my other stories! But only if I get reviews otherwise I'll go into that place that I'm sure other writers go into when they don't get any reviews that is the 'I can't write anything good. What's the point of me updating?' But, uh, no pressure or anything.
Thanks for Reading!