Aug 16, 2011 00:05
That damn
phone was ringing again. It was the third time in a row and Burt swore under
his breath, slipping from under the warm covers to go to Kurt’s room and give
whomever was calling a piece of his mind. It was three in the morning, what
were they thinking? Did Kurt really answer the phone at this hour? He’d have to
seriously talk to his son as soon as he’s back from Columbus. This damn thing
was like a limb extension to this boy. He already called from Finn’s phone,
panicked, mere hours after they got to Carole’s sister’s, to ask if it was in
his room, because he couldn’t find it and wasn’t sure if he lost it or simply
didn’t take it in all the chaos of last-minute packing. The phone turned out to
be there, on Kurt’s bed, and now was about to be switched off for the week,
just as soon as Burt dealt with this damn night caller.
He stumbled
in the darkness of the room, led only by the faint light of the display. It
said Blaine :) and Burt grumbled
under his breath. This damn kid. He was nice enough, that was true, and from
the way Kurt was constantly talking about him Burt knew that their friendship
was making his son happy, but lately he had his objections. First there was
this day before Valentine’s when Kurt cried all evening in his room. Then he
found Blaine in Kurt’s bed after that party. The latest drama was just the day
before yesterday, when Kurt came from their coffee date fuming and announced
he’d be going with Finn to Columbus that evening after all, because there’s
simply nothing to do in Lima during mid-winter break. Considering his earlier
plans included mostly hanging out with Blaine, they must have fought. Was the
boy calling at this hour to apologize or something? Oh, Burt would tell him a
thing or two…
Except he
didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he heard sobbing from the other
end of the line, and then ragged, shaky voice.
“Kurt? Thank
god. I… I know you’re mad at me but could you… I need you, please. Could you
pick me up? Could you just take me from this place? Please, I don’t know what
to do, please…” Fresh wave of heart wrenching sobs erupted from the speaker and
Burt’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest in a way that had nothing to do
with his recent health problems. Something happened to this kid, something bad.
“Blaine,
it’s Kurt’s dad. He’s not here, he went away for a week and forgot his phone.
What happened? Are you okay? Do you need help?”
“Mr Hummel?
I… I just… I’m on the college campus and I don’t have a car and… I’m sorry, I
shouldn’t…”
“What are you doing on campus at this hour?”
“I…”
“Never
mind, I’ll come get you, just go to the gates and stay put.” He was already on
his way to the bedroom to grab his clothes. What happened? What was Blaine
doing there in the middle of the night, and why was he so distraught? No matter,
he would ask later, now he had to go - he couldn’t leave a teenager in need on
his own like that. He knew Kurt wouldn’t either, no matter how bad they fought.
Carole was awake,
standing anxiously in the doorway to their bedroom. Burt hugged her briefly.
“I’ll just
go out for a while. It was Blaine - I don’t know what happened, but it sounds
like he’s in trouble. He needs someone to give him a ride home.”
Burt saw
her switch into Mum Mode immediately. He knew she had a soft spot for Kurt’s
friend. “Is he alright?”
“I don’t
know. He didn’t sound alright to me.”
“Do you
want me to go with you?”
“No,
there’s no use for both of us to be tired in the morning. Go back to bed.”
“Okay. I
love you. Be careful.”
“I will. I
love you too.”
Burt saw
the slight figure as soon as he pulled over to the campus gates. Blaine was
hunched against a nearby wall, arms hugging his midsection. In the glare of the
headlights he looked completely wretched. A huge bruise was beginning to form
on his left cheek and there was dried blood covering his lower lip and chin. His
eyes were hollow, unseeing. It was not the same confident, collected teenager
he’d seen with Kurt.
Burt got
out of the car and approached him.
“Blaine?”
The boy startled as if expecting a blow. Something was very wrong here. “Son,
what happened? Who did this to you?” Brown eyes looked at him a bit more
consciously now.
“Oh… I
just… I was in a fight.” Well, clearly. Yet it wasn’t the whole truth, Burt
could tell. When you live with two teenage boys, you learn to recognize such
things. Suspicions began to form in his head.
“Was it
some sort of homophobic attack?”
“What? No,
nothing like that. Just… personal stuff.”
“Personal,
you say. Are you hurt? Do you need to go to a hospital?”
“No! No
hospitals, please, I’m fine, I just want to go home.” Burt didn’t like the look
of panic in Blaine’s eyes, but he had no reason to argue the case. Yet.
“Okay,
let’s go then.”
Blaine made
an unsteady step towards the car and stumbled over his own feet. Burt reached out
instinctively to stabilize him, his hand landing on the boy’s shoulder, and two
things happened at once. Blaine screamed in pain and at the same time flinched
from the touch so violently that he landed on the ground with a thud. He was
sitting there, whimpering and hugging his left arm to his chest, his face contorted
in a grimace of such dread that Burt ached all over. What happened to this kid?
One thing was certain - he needed medical attention. There was something wrong
with his arm. Hell, there was something wrong with more than that.
He crouched
by the boy, careful not to make any sudden movements. It felt like approaching
a small, scared animal.
“Blaine?
I’m sorry, I was just trying to catch you. I won’t hurt you, I promise. But you
need a doctor, this arm must be killing you.” He kept his voice calm and quiet.
Blaine was
shaking his head no furiously, but
pain was evident in his eyes.
“It’s not
up for discussion, buddy. You are going to the ER. I can drive you myself or I
can call your parents to come and take you, if you prefer.” He’d have to call
the parents anyway, it was just a question of when. He could give the kid a bit
more time to gather his bearings before he had to explain what he was doing
away from home at this hour and what happened to him. He certainly didn’t look
like he was ready for confrontation yet.
“They are
not home.” Blaine’s whisper was barely audible. Well, that explained a lot.
“Okay, so
I’ll just call them and they will meet us at the hospital when they get there.”
“They are
in Europe. They won’t be back for another week.”
That
complicated things.
“So who are
you staying with?”
“Alone.”
Well
doesn’t it get better every minute.
“Okay,
here’s what we’re gonna do. Here, take my hand. We’ll get you to the car and go
to the hospital. I’ll call your parents from there and tell them to come back
as soon as they can. Ready?”
After a
moment of hesitation Blaine grabbed Burt’s outstretched hand with his uninjured
one and stood up, leaning heavily on the older man. He was shaking all over.
Being so close, Burt could now smell alcohol on the kid’s breath, and not just
beer or wine, hard stuff. He opened the passenger door for him and Blaine got
in the car, wincing. Burt helped him fasten the safety belt and that’s when he noticed.
Under the hem of his jacket, the boy’s belt buckle was undone, his jeans only
half-buttoned. Dread washed over him.
“Blaine…”
he began, as gently as he could, even as fury boiled in him at the mere thought
of what he was about to imply. “Did someone… force you to do anything you
didn’t want?”
The
teenager whimpered weakly and curled up as much as he could in the car seat,
yet shook his head no. But Burt was
not a fool. It all fit.
He felt
sick. This was so much worse than he imagined. The thought that some sick
bastard would touch this kid against his will… The force of protectiveness he suddenly
felt astounded him. His hand itched for the shotgun he kept safely hidden in a
gun cabinet at home, unused for years. Oh, if he only had it with him, if only
Blaine gave him the name and dorm room of this little shit… He ground his teeth
so hard his jaw hurt. No. It was not his job here. He had to help this boy -
hurt, terrified, alone… He had to take care of him just the way he would have
taken care of Kurt if - god forbid - he was ever in such situation. And that
meant being there for him, supporting him in every possible way and if his
suspicions were confirmed - and he very much hoped they wouldn’t be - making
sure that justice was served by proper authorities.
Slowly,
carefully, he laid his hand on Blaine’s good shoulder and squeezed lightly.
“You’re
safe now, son. I’ve got you. Whatever happened, we’ll get through this, I
promise.”
TBC
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Thank you for reading and commenting - you are the best :)
angst,
hurt/comfort,
with you i can breathe,
nc-17