Fic: Keeping Courageous & Carrying On - Part 3
Title: Keeping Courageous & Carrying On - Part 3
Rating (overall): NC-17
Pairings: Pre Blaine/Kurt, Blaine centric.
Spoilers: Aired episodes.
Warnings: Abuse, Violence, Alcoholism.
Word Count:2,914
Notes: Fill for this angst meme prompt. Thanks to the lovely people who have left me comments, you inspire me. I hope this is okay.
Summary: Blaine’s father is abusive but he refuses to be brought down by it all. He knows that one day he’s going to make something of his life. He can cope as long as he believes in himself.
Previous:
Part 1 || Part 2
o~0~o
When I close in on the car park I notice that Kurt is waiting for me. Even in a uniform he manages to stand out and I wonder if this is because he’s simply carries himself differently from the others or because I want to notice him more than the others. I’m not sure I particularly mind either way but my heart wants it to be the latter.
Instinctively, I start fiddling with my scarf before I notice and I make myself stop. I can’t keep doing that, I don’t need to implicate anybody. I don’t need to be ‘that kid from school who has a terrible home life.’ I can be somebody some day. I can. I know I can because I know that I have a talent and I know that every person worth remembering faced obstacles and challenges and setbacks. Nobody ever fell into success.
When Kurt catches sight of me he’s sauntering over in a flash. He instantly moves to link his arm through mine- not bothering to seek the permission he knows that I‘ll give him no matter what. He’s all smiles this morning and he‘s got that little skip in his step- the one he developed after escaping his meat-headed persecutor and discovering safety amongst our walls. It makes me smile, he’s so happy these days, on top of the world even. It’s utterly charming. He’s utterly charming.
“So, Blaine” he chimes without warning, “I missed talking to you last night.” I frown a little but I’m not entirely sure why. Something about the way he said that sentence makes me uneasy. Maybe it’s the guilt of lying to him, maybe it’s the part of me that has to keep my mouth shut.
“I’m so sorry, Kurt-” I start but he brings us to a halt just inside the foyer. Stopping my legs, my mouth and my brain in the process. Maybe I sounded over apologetic and he’s going to scrutinise me. I want to kick myself, except I don’t because I know how much it hurts. Don’t panic, I tell myself, it’s Kurt, he’s not about to jump down my throat. He likes me. He’s my friend. He hugs me, he tells me that he loves me, he misses me. He misses me, I think, and suddenly I only have one thought in my head- if I ever go missing he’ll look for me. If I never get up off the floor he’ll come and look for me because he cares. He’ll call me an ambulance, or the police or the coroner. Because he actually, truly cares. Emotion surges through me and I cling to his arm a little.
“No, it’s okay. Don‘t apologise.” he quickly says, followed by, “I know how family can be. I just missed unloading my drama on you. Are you- are you okay?” He’s looking at me with curiosity, he’s brows knitting in inquisitive confusion.
“I’m fine. I just have a bit of a headache.” I offer, hoping that it’ll be enough for him. Hoping I can keep the image of him finding my cold, battered body out of my head.
“Oh. Do you need to see the nurse?” He asks and I wonder how strange a face I must have pulled for him to ask that.
“No, I don’t think so.” I say as casually as I can, the last thing I want to do in the world is see the nurse.
“Good. The thought of you in pain all day makes me unhappy.” I almost flinch as he says that and I’m glad he took that moment to look down so he could grab my hand.
I feel terrible now because I’m in so much pain everyday and here Kurt is confirming what I’ve thought all along. People knowing about my pain would upset them. I don’t want to upset anyone, not ever. No one will cry over me, this is temporary. One day there will be nothing for me but free air and hope. I just have to believe.
Kurt’s still got my hand in his when he softly pulls me back into walking. It’s okay now. He starts talking about Finn and how he thinks he’s a closet case and I smile. He’s so beautifully distracting, he shifts my focus. He’s had this theory for a while, he thinks it’s very unnatural for two football players like Finn and Noah to have so many ‘man dates’ without there being an ulterior motive. I suggested that maybe they were just very good friends once and Kurt shot me down with glares all day. Now I just say placating things, like ’Totally’ and ‘Oh definitely’, to which he nods frantically in agreement. It’s adorable in a way and who knows, he could be right. It would be paradoxical for me to judge them for being gay. Only Finn and Noah know for sure.
“So, Noah stopped over rather out-of-the-blue last night and guess what they watched?” He continues and I’m thinking to myself of all the films in the world how am I supposed to know?
“Terminator?” I guess and there is reasoning behind it. On the numerous occasions I’ve had the pleasure of talking to Finn he’s dropped a Terminator reference on at least half of them.
“Nope. Think gayer.” Kurt offers as we walk into the common room, still hand in hand. Not a single student looks at us with repulsion or disgust and I wonder what the world would be like if it was all like this. A shooting pain rips through my neck and I have to grit my teeth to overcome it.
“Iron Man?” I guess, my voice wobbling a little, thinking it’s gayer than Terminator but equally as ‘manly’. I could see them both enjoying that.
“Even gayer than Robert Downey Jr.” he says and he’s laughing now and so am I. In this moment I’m happy, in this moment I‘m content.
“Finding Nemo?” That has to be a good guess, I think. He shakes his head and we take seats at either side of a small table.
“Nope. They were watching, wait for it… Priscilla Queen of The Desert.” a laugh bursts from him and he slaps his hand over his mouth and tries to force the noise back down.
“No way. That is gay. Like, literally gay. It’s a good film though with a load of truly awesome songs. So, maybe they just-” Kurt holds a hand out to me.
“Don’t you dare contradict this evidence, Mr Anderson!” He says pretending to be serious. I hold my hands up apologetically and he relaxes into a smile. I smile back.
“That scarf is great, by the way.” He says suddenly and I wonder how long he’s been looking at it and my pulse begins to race.
o~0~o
I think that sometimes your friends can be your family, and even though mine don’t know that anything is wrong, I feel like they’ve been rallying around me all day. Wes has been checking on my sore throat and my flu symptoms since he locked eyes on me at eight fifty. Trying desperately hard to meet my every need, he‘s all questions and soft fingers and I wonder how I found myself in such a lovely place.
Kurt, of course, hasn’t left my side for longer than necessary, in the classes we don’t share he’s been sending me supportive texts. They range from a concerned ‘How’s the head?’ to an optimistic ‘Wes says you’re looking better’ and the latest and more mysterious ‘I have some amazing news!’.
David has been more than a star, in all honesty his generosity has blown me away, he has, thus far, backed me up in every single class I’ve been into. He’s been right beside me as I’ve tried to explain to every teacher that I feel ill and wearing my scarf is the only thing that is keeping me warm. Most of them seem to buy it because I’ve never lied to them or done anything less than what they’ve expected from me. A few of them are suspicious of it but David does incredibly well academically and isn’t the kind of kid to make up stories, so they all let it slide, for today. I’m seriously going to have to develop a new solution though, I can’t wear this all the time, the woollen blend is making my irritated skin all the more irritated. It feels slightly counterproductive, like hiding your own homework so you don’t have to do it and then having to rush through it last minute.
Before I know it, I’m practically asleep in the common room and it’s the last lesson of the day, I have a study period and I’m all alone now that Nick, Thad and Jeff have gone to the library. Of course, I could have gone with them but I don’t need any books and the journey just for the journey isn’t as appealing as staying in this comfy chair and snuggling into the arm.
I’m practically drooling on myself when I wake up to Kurt whispering my name and tapping my forearm.
“Wake up, Mr. Sleepy.” he says as my eyes open and they adjust to the daylight.
“Hey, Kurt.” I say and my throat is a little hoarse, I don’t know if that’s because of the bruising or the sleeping but Kurt doesn’t bat an eyelid.
“Blaine, I have some wonderful news!” He shouts in a hushed voice and I suddenly remember the text he sent me.
“What is it?” I ask, hoping he’ll just spit it out.
“My dad smashed my favourite vase today!” My brow furrows, I can’t really see how that would be wonderful news and I wonder if the news of the broken vase has in fact broken Kurt. He look startlingly ecstatic.
“That’s a good thing? Aren’t you upset?” I ask, sitting straighter in the chair and looking up at him, searching his face. He doesn’t look sad at all, he looks cheerful. I’m ever so slightly bewildered by it all.
“Oh, I’m very upset, believe me. But it was spectacular leverage.” He beams and I smile a little, trust Kurt to turn an accidental breakage into bribery.
“What did you ask for?” I enquire, leaning towards him, a little.
“You.” He smiles quickly and my expression must match the confusion that’s rife in my head.
“You’re coming to dinner tonight!” He practically screeches and I’m very happy about it, I am, Kurt’s been trying to get Burt to agree to this for ages but at the same time I’m thinking about all the marks on my skin and how imperfect I’d be at his kitchen table. What if I’m not good enough and Burt hates me, I’ve met him a few times and he was lovely but dinner takes more than a few random minutes? What if I mess up or they see my body or I say something awful by accident, would they force Kurt to stop being my friend because I come with too much baggage?
I have to stop my own thoughts, I’m being ridiculous. It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine. Kurt’s family- old and new- are full of love. It’s going to be okay. Breathe.
“That sounds amazing.” I offer eventually, as I smile at him fondly. He bends down awkwardly over the chair that I’m sitting in, to give me another of his gentle hugs. I feel an explosion of love burst through me.
“I’m so happy that you’re okay with this. I just thought that since-” he starts nervously and I don’t like to see that in him. Not at all. I’m glad that Kurt’s still hugging me, or I’m hugging him, or we’re both just hugging each other.
“Kurt,” I interrupt, “Don’t worry about it. I finally get to sample Carole’s infamous food and I get to spend more time with you.” He offers me a thankful smile and we spend the rest of the day talking about whatever inserts itself into our heads and it’s so natural, so organic, that my heart pounds.
o~0~o
Kurt is coming to pick me up in a hour and I still haven’t been home yet, and I still haven’t told my father, instead I’ve been standing in a cosmetics shop in awe of the sheer volume of products available to cover blemishes. Not only do they come in thousands of colours they also come in hundreds of textures and I’m struggling to find one that matches my skin tone.
I’ve got smears of all different kinds on the back of my hand- a technique I picked up off a woman who came and went half an hour ago- but it‘s not really helping. Part of me is embarrassed that a sales assistant might approach me any second now and another part of me hopes that they would because I’m not getting anywhere, at all.
I’m about to just give up when a girl around my age approaches me, I’ve seen her around a couple of times but I don’t know who she is. As she gets closer I can see the school logo, Crawford Country Day. I almost sigh in relief at the helpful expression she holds.
“You look a little baffled.” She says and she has such a soft, floating voice that I almost do a double take.
“If you could help me I’d really, really appreciate it?” I say and she smiles.
“That’s why I’m here. I saw you through the window.” She offers and I’m suddenly very grateful. Going to a school that has a sister school is starting to pay off.
“I’m going to my friend’s house in an hour,” I begin, wondering if this is too much information but feeling the need to explain myself anyway, “I want to be comfortable and I have this scar I’d like to cover.” She just nods and starts reaching out to the tubs and tubes on the shelves.
It’s only a half-lie and so I don’t feel too guilty. Anyway, I think to myself, I couldn’t have told her the whole truth, I couldn’t have said: ‘My father strangled me last night and I have these horrible purple finger-shaped bruises all over my neck. I just want to hide them from my friend and his family. I’m sure he could kill me one day but I’m trying to stay strong because one day I’m going to be somebody. And one day it won’t hurt. Can you help me?’
I watch her pick up tens of different solutions and I can tell that, unlike me, she knows what she’s doing. Maybe all girls do, maybe they’re born to do this or maybe it’s something they learn on shopping trips with their mothers. I watch as she simultaneously frowns and smiles. She’s quite beautiful.
“Not quite.” she says to herself and I can’t help but think that ‘not quite’ is a lot closer than where I was and she’s only been here for a few minutes.
I suddenly feel bad that I don’t know her name, my helpful stranger.
“I’m Blaine, by the way.” I offer and she nods as she holds a succession of little containers next to my face.
“I’m Abigail.” she reveals as she picks up yet another powder.
“Hey, Abigail.” I say because I want to be nice to girl who’s doing me such a huge favour. Plus, I’ve never known an Abigail and I want to see how her name sounds coming out of my mouth. It sounds as wonderful as she seems to be. Her humility amazes me and I decide on the spot that she is another beautiful thing about the world.
“I think this is the one.” she says, opening up the tester pot and rubbing a tiny bit on my unmarred hand. It blends in like a charm and I am in awe of the tiny girl that stands in front of me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. My lungs can fill that little bit fuller. Tonight could be enjoyable now, it could be illuminating and perfect and inspiring.
“Thank you so much.” I say sincerely and she gets me a fresh container from the shelf. Handing it over.
“It was a pleasure.” she assures, before she re-settles her bag on her shoulder, wishes me well and vanishes out of the shop. I pay for the elusive powder and walk home as fast as I can. I need to get the confrontation over with and I need to get dressed. But what am I going to tell my father?
If I tell him I’m going to a boy’s house he’ll call me a faggot. If I tell him I’m having dinner at a friend’s house, he’ll call me ungrateful. If I don’t tell him at all he could kill me when I get home. He wouldn’t even think twice about it. He didn’t think twice about it when he choked me and smashed my head into the wall yesterday. Today wouldn’t be any different. I’m not a fool, people are quick to tell you that it gets better but I have no reason to believe that. There’s not a single reason to believe my father will ever be anything but cruel and ignorant and repulsive.
I cling to the concealer in my pocket, I hope it‘s enough. Please let it be enough.
o~0~o
Part 4
Rating (overall): NC-17
Pairings: Pre Blaine/Kurt, Blaine centric.
Spoilers: Aired episodes.
Warnings: Abuse, Violence, Alcoholism.
Word Count:2,914
Notes: Fill for this angst meme prompt. Thanks to the lovely people who have left me comments, you inspire me. I hope this is okay.
Summary: Blaine’s father is abusive but he refuses to be brought down by it all. He knows that one day he’s going to make something of his life. He can cope as long as he believes in himself.
Previous:
Part 1 || Part 2
o~0~o
When I close in on the car park I notice that Kurt is waiting for me. Even in a uniform he manages to stand out and I wonder if this is because he’s simply carries himself differently from the others or because I want to notice him more than the others. I’m not sure I particularly mind either way but my heart wants it to be the latter.
Instinctively, I start fiddling with my scarf before I notice and I make myself stop. I can’t keep doing that, I don’t need to implicate anybody. I don’t need to be ‘that kid from school who has a terrible home life.’ I can be somebody some day. I can. I know I can because I know that I have a talent and I know that every person worth remembering faced obstacles and challenges and setbacks. Nobody ever fell into success.
When Kurt catches sight of me he’s sauntering over in a flash. He instantly moves to link his arm through mine- not bothering to seek the permission he knows that I‘ll give him no matter what. He’s all smiles this morning and he‘s got that little skip in his step- the one he developed after escaping his meat-headed persecutor and discovering safety amongst our walls. It makes me smile, he’s so happy these days, on top of the world even. It’s utterly charming. He’s utterly charming.
“So, Blaine” he chimes without warning, “I missed talking to you last night.” I frown a little but I’m not entirely sure why. Something about the way he said that sentence makes me uneasy. Maybe it’s the guilt of lying to him, maybe it’s the part of me that has to keep my mouth shut.
“I’m so sorry, Kurt-” I start but he brings us to a halt just inside the foyer. Stopping my legs, my mouth and my brain in the process. Maybe I sounded over apologetic and he’s going to scrutinise me. I want to kick myself, except I don’t because I know how much it hurts. Don’t panic, I tell myself, it’s Kurt, he’s not about to jump down my throat. He likes me. He’s my friend. He hugs me, he tells me that he loves me, he misses me. He misses me, I think, and suddenly I only have one thought in my head- if I ever go missing he’ll look for me. If I never get up off the floor he’ll come and look for me because he cares. He’ll call me an ambulance, or the police or the coroner. Because he actually, truly cares. Emotion surges through me and I cling to his arm a little.
“No, it’s okay. Don‘t apologise.” he quickly says, followed by, “I know how family can be. I just missed unloading my drama on you. Are you- are you okay?” He’s looking at me with curiosity, he’s brows knitting in inquisitive confusion.
“I’m fine. I just have a bit of a headache.” I offer, hoping that it’ll be enough for him. Hoping I can keep the image of him finding my cold, battered body out of my head.
“Oh. Do you need to see the nurse?” He asks and I wonder how strange a face I must have pulled for him to ask that.
“No, I don’t think so.” I say as casually as I can, the last thing I want to do in the world is see the nurse.
“Good. The thought of you in pain all day makes me unhappy.” I almost flinch as he says that and I’m glad he took that moment to look down so he could grab my hand.
I feel terrible now because I’m in so much pain everyday and here Kurt is confirming what I’ve thought all along. People knowing about my pain would upset them. I don’t want to upset anyone, not ever. No one will cry over me, this is temporary. One day there will be nothing for me but free air and hope. I just have to believe.
Kurt’s still got my hand in his when he softly pulls me back into walking. It’s okay now. He starts talking about Finn and how he thinks he’s a closet case and I smile. He’s so beautifully distracting, he shifts my focus. He’s had this theory for a while, he thinks it’s very unnatural for two football players like Finn and Noah to have so many ‘man dates’ without there being an ulterior motive. I suggested that maybe they were just very good friends once and Kurt shot me down with glares all day. Now I just say placating things, like ’Totally’ and ‘Oh definitely’, to which he nods frantically in agreement. It’s adorable in a way and who knows, he could be right. It would be paradoxical for me to judge them for being gay. Only Finn and Noah know for sure.
“So, Noah stopped over rather out-of-the-blue last night and guess what they watched?” He continues and I’m thinking to myself of all the films in the world how am I supposed to know?
“Terminator?” I guess and there is reasoning behind it. On the numerous occasions I’ve had the pleasure of talking to Finn he’s dropped a Terminator reference on at least half of them.
“Nope. Think gayer.” Kurt offers as we walk into the common room, still hand in hand. Not a single student looks at us with repulsion or disgust and I wonder what the world would be like if it was all like this. A shooting pain rips through my neck and I have to grit my teeth to overcome it.
“Iron Man?” I guess, my voice wobbling a little, thinking it’s gayer than Terminator but equally as ‘manly’. I could see them both enjoying that.
“Even gayer than Robert Downey Jr.” he says and he’s laughing now and so am I. In this moment I’m happy, in this moment I‘m content.
“Finding Nemo?” That has to be a good guess, I think. He shakes his head and we take seats at either side of a small table.
“Nope. They were watching, wait for it… Priscilla Queen of The Desert.” a laugh bursts from him and he slaps his hand over his mouth and tries to force the noise back down.
“No way. That is gay. Like, literally gay. It’s a good film though with a load of truly awesome songs. So, maybe they just-” Kurt holds a hand out to me.
“Don’t you dare contradict this evidence, Mr Anderson!” He says pretending to be serious. I hold my hands up apologetically and he relaxes into a smile. I smile back.
“That scarf is great, by the way.” He says suddenly and I wonder how long he’s been looking at it and my pulse begins to race.
o~0~o
I think that sometimes your friends can be your family, and even though mine don’t know that anything is wrong, I feel like they’ve been rallying around me all day. Wes has been checking on my sore throat and my flu symptoms since he locked eyes on me at eight fifty. Trying desperately hard to meet my every need, he‘s all questions and soft fingers and I wonder how I found myself in such a lovely place.
Kurt, of course, hasn’t left my side for longer than necessary, in the classes we don’t share he’s been sending me supportive texts. They range from a concerned ‘How’s the head?’ to an optimistic ‘Wes says you’re looking better’ and the latest and more mysterious ‘I have some amazing news!’.
David has been more than a star, in all honesty his generosity has blown me away, he has, thus far, backed me up in every single class I’ve been into. He’s been right beside me as I’ve tried to explain to every teacher that I feel ill and wearing my scarf is the only thing that is keeping me warm. Most of them seem to buy it because I’ve never lied to them or done anything less than what they’ve expected from me. A few of them are suspicious of it but David does incredibly well academically and isn’t the kind of kid to make up stories, so they all let it slide, for today. I’m seriously going to have to develop a new solution though, I can’t wear this all the time, the woollen blend is making my irritated skin all the more irritated. It feels slightly counterproductive, like hiding your own homework so you don’t have to do it and then having to rush through it last minute.
Before I know it, I’m practically asleep in the common room and it’s the last lesson of the day, I have a study period and I’m all alone now that Nick, Thad and Jeff have gone to the library. Of course, I could have gone with them but I don’t need any books and the journey just for the journey isn’t as appealing as staying in this comfy chair and snuggling into the arm.
I’m practically drooling on myself when I wake up to Kurt whispering my name and tapping my forearm.
“Wake up, Mr. Sleepy.” he says as my eyes open and they adjust to the daylight.
“Hey, Kurt.” I say and my throat is a little hoarse, I don’t know if that’s because of the bruising or the sleeping but Kurt doesn’t bat an eyelid.
“Blaine, I have some wonderful news!” He shouts in a hushed voice and I suddenly remember the text he sent me.
“What is it?” I ask, hoping he’ll just spit it out.
“My dad smashed my favourite vase today!” My brow furrows, I can’t really see how that would be wonderful news and I wonder if the news of the broken vase has in fact broken Kurt. He look startlingly ecstatic.
“That’s a good thing? Aren’t you upset?” I ask, sitting straighter in the chair and looking up at him, searching his face. He doesn’t look sad at all, he looks cheerful. I’m ever so slightly bewildered by it all.
“Oh, I’m very upset, believe me. But it was spectacular leverage.” He beams and I smile a little, trust Kurt to turn an accidental breakage into bribery.
“What did you ask for?” I enquire, leaning towards him, a little.
“You.” He smiles quickly and my expression must match the confusion that’s rife in my head.
“You’re coming to dinner tonight!” He practically screeches and I’m very happy about it, I am, Kurt’s been trying to get Burt to agree to this for ages but at the same time I’m thinking about all the marks on my skin and how imperfect I’d be at his kitchen table. What if I’m not good enough and Burt hates me, I’ve met him a few times and he was lovely but dinner takes more than a few random minutes? What if I mess up or they see my body or I say something awful by accident, would they force Kurt to stop being my friend because I come with too much baggage?
I have to stop my own thoughts, I’m being ridiculous. It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine. Kurt’s family- old and new- are full of love. It’s going to be okay. Breathe.
“That sounds amazing.” I offer eventually, as I smile at him fondly. He bends down awkwardly over the chair that I’m sitting in, to give me another of his gentle hugs. I feel an explosion of love burst through me.
“I’m so happy that you’re okay with this. I just thought that since-” he starts nervously and I don’t like to see that in him. Not at all. I’m glad that Kurt’s still hugging me, or I’m hugging him, or we’re both just hugging each other.
“Kurt,” I interrupt, “Don’t worry about it. I finally get to sample Carole’s infamous food and I get to spend more time with you.” He offers me a thankful smile and we spend the rest of the day talking about whatever inserts itself into our heads and it’s so natural, so organic, that my heart pounds.
o~0~o
Kurt is coming to pick me up in a hour and I still haven’t been home yet, and I still haven’t told my father, instead I’ve been standing in a cosmetics shop in awe of the sheer volume of products available to cover blemishes. Not only do they come in thousands of colours they also come in hundreds of textures and I’m struggling to find one that matches my skin tone.
I’ve got smears of all different kinds on the back of my hand- a technique I picked up off a woman who came and went half an hour ago- but it‘s not really helping. Part of me is embarrassed that a sales assistant might approach me any second now and another part of me hopes that they would because I’m not getting anywhere, at all.
I’m about to just give up when a girl around my age approaches me, I’ve seen her around a couple of times but I don’t know who she is. As she gets closer I can see the school logo, Crawford Country Day. I almost sigh in relief at the helpful expression she holds.
“You look a little baffled.” She says and she has such a soft, floating voice that I almost do a double take.
“If you could help me I’d really, really appreciate it?” I say and she smiles.
“That’s why I’m here. I saw you through the window.” She offers and I’m suddenly very grateful. Going to a school that has a sister school is starting to pay off.
“I’m going to my friend’s house in an hour,” I begin, wondering if this is too much information but feeling the need to explain myself anyway, “I want to be comfortable and I have this scar I’d like to cover.” She just nods and starts reaching out to the tubs and tubes on the shelves.
It’s only a half-lie and so I don’t feel too guilty. Anyway, I think to myself, I couldn’t have told her the whole truth, I couldn’t have said: ‘My father strangled me last night and I have these horrible purple finger-shaped bruises all over my neck. I just want to hide them from my friend and his family. I’m sure he could kill me one day but I’m trying to stay strong because one day I’m going to be somebody. And one day it won’t hurt. Can you help me?’
I watch her pick up tens of different solutions and I can tell that, unlike me, she knows what she’s doing. Maybe all girls do, maybe they’re born to do this or maybe it’s something they learn on shopping trips with their mothers. I watch as she simultaneously frowns and smiles. She’s quite beautiful.
“Not quite.” she says to herself and I can’t help but think that ‘not quite’ is a lot closer than where I was and she’s only been here for a few minutes.
I suddenly feel bad that I don’t know her name, my helpful stranger.
“I’m Blaine, by the way.” I offer and she nods as she holds a succession of little containers next to my face.
“I’m Abigail.” she reveals as she picks up yet another powder.
“Hey, Abigail.” I say because I want to be nice to girl who’s doing me such a huge favour. Plus, I’ve never known an Abigail and I want to see how her name sounds coming out of my mouth. It sounds as wonderful as she seems to be. Her humility amazes me and I decide on the spot that she is another beautiful thing about the world.
“I think this is the one.” she says, opening up the tester pot and rubbing a tiny bit on my unmarred hand. It blends in like a charm and I am in awe of the tiny girl that stands in front of me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. My lungs can fill that little bit fuller. Tonight could be enjoyable now, it could be illuminating and perfect and inspiring.
“Thank you so much.” I say sincerely and she gets me a fresh container from the shelf. Handing it over.
“It was a pleasure.” she assures, before she re-settles her bag on her shoulder, wishes me well and vanishes out of the shop. I pay for the elusive powder and walk home as fast as I can. I need to get the confrontation over with and I need to get dressed. But what am I going to tell my father?
If I tell him I’m going to a boy’s house he’ll call me a faggot. If I tell him I’m having dinner at a friend’s house, he’ll call me ungrateful. If I don’t tell him at all he could kill me when I get home. He wouldn’t even think twice about it. He didn’t think twice about it when he choked me and smashed my head into the wall yesterday. Today wouldn’t be any different. I’m not a fool, people are quick to tell you that it gets better but I have no reason to believe that. There’s not a single reason to believe my father will ever be anything but cruel and ignorant and repulsive.
I cling to the concealer in my pocket, I hope it‘s enough. Please let it be enough.
o~0~o
Part 4