Author's Note: TRIGGER WARNING! Rape is a heavy theme in this story, and while it is not graphically described, please read with caution. The title is from a poem that my friend wrote.
For someone on the brink of unconsciousness, Blaine was feeling an incredible amount of things. At the forefront of his mind was pain – so much pain. Every inch of his body ached, inside and out. Especially inside.
He shuddered – not just from the cold, but from something else he was feeling: violation. He'd never felt so exposed, so used, so dirty. Part of him hoped he would just slip away into nothingness, so that he'd never have to wake up and feel this way again.
Tears slipped silently down Blaine's face; he just didn't have the energy to sob violently, like he felt he should be doing. All his energy had left him trying to fight them off. Gravel and grit from the pavement he was lying on dug into his flesh. He didn't want to move and wasn't sure if he could, though he knew he should call the hospital.
Blaine thought of all those people, all those strangers that would have to touch him, run tests on him and ask questions. He'd been through so much tonight, too much to want to be handled by anyone else he didn't know.
Kurt. That was what Blaine wanted. Aside from his brother, Kurt would probably be the only person able to comfort him right now, and Cooper was in L.A. Blaine needed Kurt's soft, soothing voice, his gentle hands tending to him like when Blaine was first slushied. He needed someone who loved him, who knew him – someone he knew deep in his heart would never purposely hurt him.
Blaine's battered iPhone was lying a few feet away, and he used every ounce of energy to reach forward and take it in his shaking, bloody hand. He brought it close to his face, squinting against the brightness as the screen lit up. It was cracked but seemed to work fine, and after a couple of tries Blaine got it unlocked and dialed Kurt's number.
"Hey," Kurt said cheerfully after the first couple of rings. "I was expecting your call a half hour ago, did you get held up at the store?"
"K-Kurt," Blaine choked out, his lip split and swollen.
"Blaine? I can't hear you very well, is everything okay?"
"P-please help…" Blaine whispered. His chest ached too much to speak any louder, probably from cracked ribs.
"Blaine, sweetheart, where are you?" Kurt asked, sounding frantic now. "Are you okay?"
"I need…I need you." He could feel himself losing consciousness and knew he didn't have much time left. "Please Kurt, it hurts…"
"Blaine, listen to me, you need to tell me where you are, or I can't come help you," Kurt told him gently, but he could hear the panic in his boyfriend's voice.
Blaine told him where he thought the alley was, where the three men had done unspeakable things to him.
"Hang on baby, I'm leaving now," Kurt said, rustling in the background on his end. "Stay on the line, okay? Just hang in there Blaine, I'll be there soon."
Blaine doubted it would be soon enough, because he was fading fast, his eyelids slipping closed. Kurt's voice was so sweet and familiar, all he wanted to do was sleep...he was so cold…
"Blaine? Blaine, stay with me, you can't go to sleep! You might be going into shock," Kurt's voice said urgently. "I love you, everything's gonna be okay. Talk to me."
"L-love you too," Blaine said thickly. "Kurt?"
"I'm right here. I'm almost there."
"I think I'm dying…"
A sound like a strangled sob came from Kurt's end, but Blaine couldn't be sure of anything. He felt dizzy and everything sounded like it came from the end of a tunnel. He wished Kurt were here. Dying in Kurt's arms sounded nice.
Kurt kept talking, but Blaine was beyond comprehension. He thought it might be something about going to New York together. Kurt's voice was so beautiful, even when he was crying…
Kurt's voice wasn't coming from the phone anymore – it had gone silent without Blaine noticing. Everything was getting further away, like he was being withdrawn from the world, out of his body, out of the dirty alley, out of his life…
And then there were warm arms around him, warm, gentle arms, and his favorite smell filled his nose. Kurt was holding him, crying and begging him to come back.
Using whatever reserve of will he had left, Blaine opened his eyes.
For Kurt, he would always come back.
Kurt had never seen a more pitiful sight.
He had thought for a moment that Blaine was dead, after not hearing any response from him for a minute or two and seeing him lying in a crumpled heap in the depths of the alley. Within seconds he had taken his boyfriend into his arms.
Blaine was naked, allowing the dark splotches and nasty looking cuts to be displayed. The sight tore wrenching sobs from Kurt's throat.
"Blaine, I love you, I love you!" he sobbed, running his fingers through his lover's hair, sticky with gel and blood. "Please come back Blaine, please…"
His voice trailed off to a shaky whisper, clutching Blaine's limp body.
Blaine's long eyelashes fluttered, opening a crack and showing a sliver of his beautiful golden eyes.
"Kurt," he rasped, his voice even weaker than it had been over the phone.
"Oh Blaine," Kurt murmured, more relieved than he could express. "Stay with me, baby, let me call an ambulance-"
"N-no," Blaine whimpered. "I don't want…them to touch me…only you."
Another sob clawed its way up Kurt's throat at his boyfriend's words. Whatever those monsters had done to his Blaine, Kurt wanted to do a million times worse to them.
"Sweetheart, listen to me," Kurt begged. He usually reserved pet names for when they were truly needed for comfort purposes, and he was using them in excess now. "I love you so much, and I'm not going to let anyone else hurt you. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you. But if you don't get help you're going to die. Don't you understand that I can't lose you?"
He cradled Blaine's head in the crook of his elbow like a baby, stroking his face as gently as possible. He'd never seen Blaine so fragile – short, rattling breaths slipped past his lips, too weak to move.
"We still have so much to do together," he rambled. "We'll go to New York and get famous, get married, have kids-"
"Y-you want…kids with me?" Blaine asked feebly, his voice alight with hope.
"I want everything with you, Blaine," Kurt whispered, tears dripping down his face. "I'll even let you pick all of their names."
The smallest of smiles pulled at the corners of Blaine's mouth. Even as he lay broken in Kurt's arms, he managed to find something to be happy about.
"But none of that's going to happen if I don't get you to the hospital," Kurt reminded him.
"Promise you'll be there…when they're done?" Blaine breathed, eyes slipping closed again.
"I'll always be here," Kurt vowed, already taking out his phone.
He called 911 and tried to stay as calm as possible while explaining their situation. As soon as they said the ambulance was on the way, he hung up and went back to his dying boyfriend.
"Blaine, honey, I love you so much," he murmured. "Just a little longer, okay? I know you'll make it through this, you're so strong. I'm so sorry I let this happen to you."
"'S okay," Blaine slurred. Kurt held him closer, trying to warm him up.
"Kurt?" Blaine whispered when they could hear sirens in the distance.
"Will you…will you sing to me?"
Kurt nodded and kissed Blaine's forehead. He started quietly singing "Blackbird", his lips at Blaine's ear. He pressed small kisses to his skin between lines – if there was one thing Kurt wanted Blaine to know in case the worst happened, it was that he was loved.
Kurt knew he was lucky. He was lucky that he had a father who supported and loved him. He as lucky that his dad didn't die in his coma two years ago. He was lucky that the guy who bullied him for three years turned out to be just a confused closet case. He was lucky the city of his dreams now allowed gay marriage.
But right now, he was most grateful that the boy he intended to marry in said city found enough strength within himself to pull through his traumatic experience.
Kurt was sitting at Blaine's bedside as he slept off his injuries. Their hands were intertwined, Kurt's thumb running over Blaine's knuckles. His boyfriend was covered in bandages and stitches, but he was alive.
Blaine started mumbling sleepily, the words indistinguishable, and Kurt hoped he wasn't having a nightmare.
"'Liz'beth," Blaine slurred, his eyes fluttering open and falling on Kurt.
"What's that?" he asked, leaning forward to hear Blaine better.
"Elizabeth," he repeated. "You said I could name our kids. If we have a daughter, I want her name to be Elizabeth, after your mom."
Not for the first time that night, Kurt began to cry. But this time, they were tears of joy.
You didn't think I would kill off sweet little Blainers, did you? ;)