Pride, Privilege, and Predators Conclusion.
Title: Pride, Privilege, and Predators
Warnings: NonCon, Language, Violence
Fill for Glee Angst Meme
Chapter Eight (conclusion)
He does not want visitors. They see his bruises, he cannot hide broken
bones, and his hair lacks gel. He gets several visitors today. Last week
his father came by and he sent him away. New Directions beg to stop by,
express their sympathies, and wish him good luck for discharge. He
refuses them.
They already know what happened. He got into a car with Sebastian. That bad
choice lead him here. This horrible place where his ribs hurt, he can’t
breathe the right way anymore, and his eyesight may never improve. The
food tastes bland and take out has become a regular thing. He misses
Kurt’s home cooked meals. The oxygen makes everything taste different.
His head aches. The nurses come by too often for his liking and the doctors
make their visits short. They have other patients to see. Physical
Therapy looms in his immediate future. They send him to a specialist on
Monday. By Wednesday, he can get up again and move around a little on
his own. He spends most of his time with Kurt.
Visitors come to see him. He made a choice that night and now everyone around
him knows what he did; he climbed into that car. Sebastian lied to him.
They never made it to his house. He carries the memories of that night
with a heavy heart. Those strange kisses, the touch he said he did not like. The words whispered to him in the darkness.
The memories haunt him. He sees Sebastian in his sleep. A year ago, all he
found in his dreams was Kurt Hummel. Now he has this new companion. One
that broke his ribs and damaged his eye for the second time. Everything
changed overnight. Sebastian claims him in his sleep and he has no
control over the distorted dream like images that spin around in his
mind.
Kurt speaks to him. Everyone else talks around him like he no longer exists.
He feels disoriented, because he went to a bar and he woke up here.
Sebastian exploded and he paid the price. He remembers dancing, the wet
heat of sweat on their bodies. His own stupidity lead him here. He sees
that laundry room and he can feel Sebastian’s hands on his face.
The bright lights hurt his eyes. He resists those drugs he shoved down his
throat; that memory clings to him. It gives him ground to stand on. He
said no. At some point he told him no and he wanted those touches gone. The touches that hurt. Ones he can never forget.
Each bruise and every stitch reminds him of those terrible touches. He tries
to remember those touches he loves, the ones Kurt gives him every day.
They help him through the pain. The drugs coursing through his system
only go so far and the pills they give him for nightmares does not seem
to work at all. They give him dry mouth, which does not help with his
breathing.
Breathing through an oxygen tube throughout the day does little to relieve the
persistent pain in his ribs. Those hurt the most. It feels as if someone
decided to place a brick on his chest. He struggles to breathe and he
hates every second of it. The doctors say his ribs will heal with some
time; they can give him an oxygen tank at home. He has a home with Kurt.
His brother visits everyday and he refuses to run away from his this
time.
His father took one look at him and grimaced in disgust. He saw it in his
eyes and he refused his company. Cooper and Kurt are the only sentinels
he needs. Everyone judges him for this. He understands why, he knows he
brought this attack upon himself. They can see the marks on his skin. He
got into a car with a man that was not his boyfriend. Kurt remains at
his side. He cannot say why.
He deserves the quiet whispers between the nurses, those pitied looks from
the doctors, the empathy in the Chaplain, and the harsh grimace from
his father. They see him now.
He hates it here. Kurt makes his life in the hospital (they accumulate
stuff to take home) bearable. His kind and loving touch makes him hope
for the future. He loves him for those soft hands. They spend their days
here and they miss school.
Recovery will last longer this time. He cannot return to school this year. The
doctors plan out a physical therapy program for him. It takes them a
week, but they finally decide to discharge him on Thursday. Cooper sits
beside Kurt.
“We’re working out a plan for you two,” he says, “Burt and I want you to be happy.”
He knows his family; he suspects they will send him to live with Kurt. His
mother had a busy career. She called him from Russia, unable to leave
the country due to her job as an international accountant. His father
left at his own request. Cooper travels all of the time for his acting
career. He doubts the doctors or the social worker will let him live
with his older brother. Kurt offers him a tired smile.
His blue eyes sparkle in the light. He wheezes out a heavy breath.
“I’m staying with Kurt,” he says, “they say I can use the oxygen tank at home.”
He hates the odd taste of oxygen that fills his nose. Cooper smiles at him, looking relieved.
“It’s settled,” he replies, “you’re staying with Kurt. Under Burt’s eye, of course.”
“Yeah,” he answers, “I don’t want to impose on our parents.”
Cooper blinks and leans a bit closer.
“They’re on your side,” he says, “they just--they don’t know how to handle something like this.”
He coughs. Pain radiates throughout his chest. The brick presses down on
his chest, leaving him winded once again. He leans against Kurt. His
family sent him away. He hates this place where everything goes wrong.
Every encounter does this to his body.
“Maybe we should finish this later,” Cooper says, “I think he has enough information for now.”
Kurt strokes his cheek. Blaine focuses on that touch; it lightens his cough a little.
“We need to talk about Sebastian,” Kurt says, “and we need to talk to our lawyer again.”
Cooper shifts his gaze to the side. He does not like this particular look. It
means his brother actually did something for him. He looks at Cooper and
blinks back a tear. Sometimes they were friends. Most of the time they
existed as strangers. He wants to stay with Kurt, he knows they will
take him in.
His eye begins to itch. He presses his cheek against slim fingers. The itch
subsides. He feels like shit. The pain meds wear off quick. Kurt calls
for the nurse, pushing the button above his bed.
“He needs another IV,” he says, “he’s in pain at the moment.”
Everything hurts. His body, his heart, and his mind. The medication
helps him sleep. He can stay up for days. Dalton trained his body to
sleep on four hours a night; he could get back on that schedule once he
left the hospital. At the moment he had nurses jumping on him every six
hours and the doctors came to see him at least once a day. They thought
he might readjust in a familiar place.
He slept at Kurt’s house enough times. They always look after him, make
sure he’s got a safe place. He loves them. Burt never grimaced at him.
He looked at him with empathy. Burt took him in. He can stay with Kurt.
His head hurts; he closes his good eye. He sees nothing except the
darkness and he feels Kurt’s fingers on his cheeks. The fingers keep him
grounded. He thinks he might scream if they were not resting upon his
face. Kurt keeps him calm, he stays by his side, he loves him despite
his ride in an unfamiliar car. They can leave this place on Thursday.
He thinks today is Tuesday, or maybe Wednesday if he gets lucky. The long
days blur together. Every time he looks at the clock on the wall, the
clock seems to stop. He forgets to look at it after a nightmare and he
always knows what time his meals come. Kurt adjusts to his schedule
after the first two days. He keeps his vigil by his bedside for two
weeks straight, opting to shower in his room and sleep on an old cot.
The staff lets him stay.
They bring him toiletries. Once Carole learns about her stepson’s campaign
to stay at the hospital, she puts together a care package and they wind
up with their own bathroom shelf. He cannot use the shower. The nurses
help bathe him, but they reassure him that he’ll use the shower himself
tomorrow. He will fight to use it, even if he knows the steam might
aggravate his chronic coughing. Every gasp hurts now. He wraps his arms
around Kurt and he gets lost in his smell.
Kurt smells like soap and coffee. He breathes against his stomach, wishing
they were someplace else. They loved coffee. He wants to shower with
Kurt. It might distract him from his pain. He wonders if the nurses
would go for the idea. Showering with Kurt sounds better than showering
with one of the nurses.
The nurse arrives a few minutes later, when he’s crying and moaning in
pain. She performs a few swift movements with the IV Line. The morphine
begins to kick in and he settles down into the bed. He wheezes into
Kurt’s shirt, hating the brick on his chest. Sebastian put it there. He
climbed into his car; he had too many drinks; he thought he was going
home. Those rough kisses linger on his skin.
ldquo;Sebastian is leaving the hospital tomorrow,” Cooper says, “and we’re beginning Arbitration with the DA.”
“Arbitration?” Kurt asks. “I don’t understand--won’t there be a trial?”
Cooper looks away from Kurt, shifting his gaze to his brother instead.
“A trial means more publicity Kurt,” he replies, “Arbitration gives
everyone a chance to have their say. Sebastian’s going to face
punishment. I don’t want him to go free after this.”
urt frowns.
“Sebastian’s father is the DA,” he says, “he seemed rather blase about the whole slushy incident!”
Cooper winces. He listens to their quiet conversation. The oxygen tank
creates too much background noise. He has to strain to hear them.
“We have a lawyer,” Kurt says, “he may be a public defender, but Arbitration sounds unfair.”
“It’s not unfair,” Cooper replies, “Blaine belongs here--he should stay with you. Let me handle the Arbitration.”
He cringes as the morphine takes over. His brother wants to take this
away from him. It’s his fight. Kurt distracts him by touching his arm.
That touch he wants; he wants those fingers to stay. He starts to
protest. His voice becomes a wet cough. The brick lies upon his stomach.
He coughs, unable to finish his vocal objection to Arbitration. Sebastian
will get off easy. He wants some kind of justice. It slips away from
him. The police file becomes resolved without him, because he is
categorized as an unreliable witness due to inebriation. He wants a
lawyer and he gets another nurse. She slips a second drug into his IV
Line.
Sebastian claims his body and he wakes up screaming again. The nightmare leaves
him shaking in Kurt’s arms. The nurses come and go throughout the night.
In the morning, he eats breakfast. He hears about Sebastian’s fate: military school. They send him away from the hospital. Anger pools inside of his battered chest when he hears the news from Kurt.
He shoves his lunch away and succumbs to another coughing fit. When he can
see he hugs Kurt. The afternoon passes in quiet, subdued whispers. He
feels fury, because he has to stay here and Sebastian left before him
with a few mild scratches. They took away a jury and they replaced them
with a biased District Attorney. He feels subdued. The clock ticks by.
The nurses, much to his surprise, agree to let him shower with Kurt. They
earn an hour of privacy. It hurts like hell when he uses the walker, but
it gets him out of that bed and walking. The task feels arduous. Pain
flows through his body as he gets up and waddles to the shower. Kurt
waits for him inside. Nurse Jodi helps him into the shower.
Once he’s inside, the curtain slides. Kurt stands under the spray. He stares
at his bare chest and he feels inadequate. They used to make love in
the shower. He has no energy for that, not today. It lowers his spirit a
bit more. He loves sex--especially sex with Kurt.
They explored that realm of sexual desire together and now they had to use
their focus on bruises and stitches. His skin itches in the water, but
he welcomes the hands on his hips to help steady his feet. Kurt guides
his hands. He showers with care. The soap glides across his body. Kurt
washes his stitches. Hot, wet lips brush against his skin.
He welcomes the change, the tenderness behind these touches. Kurt keeps
this simple with a few kisses. He returns them in eager ernesty. They
kiss. He loves the way they heal his skin. They linger in the shower. He
wheezes as they walk back to his bed.
The shower leaves him exhausted. He sleeps with nightmares. The images
flowing through his mind do not stop. Sebastian walks free at the
moment. He could come back. The thought bothers him. He cannot stop
another attack.
Fear crawls around in his torn up belly. He thinks he’s safe here with Kurt
and Cooper, but security seems lax in this hospital. No police officer
protects him after Arbitration. He remembers that word. They took away
his legal rights. He hates them for it. Sebastian lurks in the darkness,
always wanting.
Warnings: NonCon, Language, Violence
Fill for Glee Angst Meme
Chapter Eight (conclusion)
He does not want visitors. They see his bruises, he cannot hide broken
bones, and his hair lacks gel. He gets several visitors today. Last week
his father came by and he sent him away. New Directions beg to stop by,
express their sympathies, and wish him good luck for discharge. He
refuses them.
They already know what happened. He got into a car with Sebastian. That bad
choice lead him here. This horrible place where his ribs hurt, he can’t
breathe the right way anymore, and his eyesight may never improve. The
food tastes bland and take out has become a regular thing. He misses
Kurt’s home cooked meals. The oxygen makes everything taste different.
His head aches. The nurses come by too often for his liking and the doctors
make their visits short. They have other patients to see. Physical
Therapy looms in his immediate future. They send him to a specialist on
Monday. By Wednesday, he can get up again and move around a little on
his own. He spends most of his time with Kurt.
Visitors come to see him. He made a choice that night and now everyone around
him knows what he did; he climbed into that car. Sebastian lied to him.
They never made it to his house. He carries the memories of that night
with a heavy heart. Those strange kisses, the touch he said he did not like. The words whispered to him in the darkness.
The memories haunt him. He sees Sebastian in his sleep. A year ago, all he
found in his dreams was Kurt Hummel. Now he has this new companion. One
that broke his ribs and damaged his eye for the second time. Everything
changed overnight. Sebastian claims him in his sleep and he has no
control over the distorted dream like images that spin around in his
mind.
Kurt speaks to him. Everyone else talks around him like he no longer exists.
He feels disoriented, because he went to a bar and he woke up here.
Sebastian exploded and he paid the price. He remembers dancing, the wet
heat of sweat on their bodies. His own stupidity lead him here. He sees
that laundry room and he can feel Sebastian’s hands on his face.
The bright lights hurt his eyes. He resists those drugs he shoved down his
throat; that memory clings to him. It gives him ground to stand on. He
said no. At some point he told him no and he wanted those touches gone. The touches that hurt. Ones he can never forget.
Each bruise and every stitch reminds him of those terrible touches. He tries
to remember those touches he loves, the ones Kurt gives him every day.
They help him through the pain. The drugs coursing through his system
only go so far and the pills they give him for nightmares does not seem
to work at all. They give him dry mouth, which does not help with his
breathing.
Breathing through an oxygen tube throughout the day does little to relieve the
persistent pain in his ribs. Those hurt the most. It feels as if someone
decided to place a brick on his chest. He struggles to breathe and he
hates every second of it. The doctors say his ribs will heal with some
time; they can give him an oxygen tank at home. He has a home with Kurt.
His brother visits everyday and he refuses to run away from his this
time.
His father took one look at him and grimaced in disgust. He saw it in his
eyes and he refused his company. Cooper and Kurt are the only sentinels
he needs. Everyone judges him for this. He understands why, he knows he
brought this attack upon himself. They can see the marks on his skin. He
got into a car with a man that was not his boyfriend. Kurt remains at
his side. He cannot say why.
He deserves the quiet whispers between the nurses, those pitied looks from
the doctors, the empathy in the Chaplain, and the harsh grimace from
his father. They see him now.
He hates it here. Kurt makes his life in the hospital (they accumulate
stuff to take home) bearable. His kind and loving touch makes him hope
for the future. He loves him for those soft hands. They spend their days
here and they miss school.
Recovery will last longer this time. He cannot return to school this year. The
doctors plan out a physical therapy program for him. It takes them a
week, but they finally decide to discharge him on Thursday. Cooper sits
beside Kurt.
“We’re working out a plan for you two,” he says, “Burt and I want you to be happy.”
He knows his family; he suspects they will send him to live with Kurt. His
mother had a busy career. She called him from Russia, unable to leave
the country due to her job as an international accountant. His father
left at his own request. Cooper travels all of the time for his acting
career. He doubts the doctors or the social worker will let him live
with his older brother. Kurt offers him a tired smile.
His blue eyes sparkle in the light. He wheezes out a heavy breath.
“I’m staying with Kurt,” he says, “they say I can use the oxygen tank at home.”
He hates the odd taste of oxygen that fills his nose. Cooper smiles at him, looking relieved.
“It’s settled,” he replies, “you’re staying with Kurt. Under Burt’s eye, of course.”
“Yeah,” he answers, “I don’t want to impose on our parents.”
Cooper blinks and leans a bit closer.
“They’re on your side,” he says, “they just--they don’t know how to handle something like this.”
He coughs. Pain radiates throughout his chest. The brick presses down on
his chest, leaving him winded once again. He leans against Kurt. His
family sent him away. He hates this place where everything goes wrong.
Every encounter does this to his body.
“Maybe we should finish this later,” Cooper says, “I think he has enough information for now.”
Kurt strokes his cheek. Blaine focuses on that touch; it lightens his cough a little.
“We need to talk about Sebastian,” Kurt says, “and we need to talk to our lawyer again.”
Cooper shifts his gaze to the side. He does not like this particular look. It
means his brother actually did something for him. He looks at Cooper and
blinks back a tear. Sometimes they were friends. Most of the time they
existed as strangers. He wants to stay with Kurt, he knows they will
take him in.
His eye begins to itch. He presses his cheek against slim fingers. The itch
subsides. He feels like shit. The pain meds wear off quick. Kurt calls
for the nurse, pushing the button above his bed.
“He needs another IV,” he says, “he’s in pain at the moment.”
Everything hurts. His body, his heart, and his mind. The medication
helps him sleep. He can stay up for days. Dalton trained his body to
sleep on four hours a night; he could get back on that schedule once he
left the hospital. At the moment he had nurses jumping on him every six
hours and the doctors came to see him at least once a day. They thought
he might readjust in a familiar place.
He slept at Kurt’s house enough times. They always look after him, make
sure he’s got a safe place. He loves them. Burt never grimaced at him.
He looked at him with empathy. Burt took him in. He can stay with Kurt.
His head hurts; he closes his good eye. He sees nothing except the
darkness and he feels Kurt’s fingers on his cheeks. The fingers keep him
grounded. He thinks he might scream if they were not resting upon his
face. Kurt keeps him calm, he stays by his side, he loves him despite
his ride in an unfamiliar car. They can leave this place on Thursday.
He thinks today is Tuesday, or maybe Wednesday if he gets lucky. The long
days blur together. Every time he looks at the clock on the wall, the
clock seems to stop. He forgets to look at it after a nightmare and he
always knows what time his meals come. Kurt adjusts to his schedule
after the first two days. He keeps his vigil by his bedside for two
weeks straight, opting to shower in his room and sleep on an old cot.
The staff lets him stay.
They bring him toiletries. Once Carole learns about her stepson’s campaign
to stay at the hospital, she puts together a care package and they wind
up with their own bathroom shelf. He cannot use the shower. The nurses
help bathe him, but they reassure him that he’ll use the shower himself
tomorrow. He will fight to use it, even if he knows the steam might
aggravate his chronic coughing. Every gasp hurts now. He wraps his arms
around Kurt and he gets lost in his smell.
Kurt smells like soap and coffee. He breathes against his stomach, wishing
they were someplace else. They loved coffee. He wants to shower with
Kurt. It might distract him from his pain. He wonders if the nurses
would go for the idea. Showering with Kurt sounds better than showering
with one of the nurses.
The nurse arrives a few minutes later, when he’s crying and moaning in
pain. She performs a few swift movements with the IV Line. The morphine
begins to kick in and he settles down into the bed. He wheezes into
Kurt’s shirt, hating the brick on his chest. Sebastian put it there. He
climbed into his car; he had too many drinks; he thought he was going
home. Those rough kisses linger on his skin.
ldquo;Sebastian is leaving the hospital tomorrow,” Cooper says, “and we’re beginning Arbitration with the DA.”
“Arbitration?” Kurt asks. “I don’t understand--won’t there be a trial?”
Cooper looks away from Kurt, shifting his gaze to his brother instead.
“A trial means more publicity Kurt,” he replies, “Arbitration gives
everyone a chance to have their say. Sebastian’s going to face
punishment. I don’t want him to go free after this.”
urt frowns.
“Sebastian’s father is the DA,” he says, “he seemed rather blase about the whole slushy incident!”
Cooper winces. He listens to their quiet conversation. The oxygen tank
creates too much background noise. He has to strain to hear them.
“We have a lawyer,” Kurt says, “he may be a public defender, but Arbitration sounds unfair.”
“It’s not unfair,” Cooper replies, “Blaine belongs here--he should stay with you. Let me handle the Arbitration.”
He cringes as the morphine takes over. His brother wants to take this
away from him. It’s his fight. Kurt distracts him by touching his arm.
That touch he wants; he wants those fingers to stay. He starts to
protest. His voice becomes a wet cough. The brick lies upon his stomach.
He coughs, unable to finish his vocal objection to Arbitration. Sebastian
will get off easy. He wants some kind of justice. It slips away from
him. The police file becomes resolved without him, because he is
categorized as an unreliable witness due to inebriation. He wants a
lawyer and he gets another nurse. She slips a second drug into his IV
Line.
Sebastian claims his body and he wakes up screaming again. The nightmare leaves
him shaking in Kurt’s arms. The nurses come and go throughout the night.
In the morning, he eats breakfast. He hears about Sebastian’s fate: military school. They send him away from the hospital. Anger pools inside of his battered chest when he hears the news from Kurt.
He shoves his lunch away and succumbs to another coughing fit. When he can
see he hugs Kurt. The afternoon passes in quiet, subdued whispers. He
feels fury, because he has to stay here and Sebastian left before him
with a few mild scratches. They took away a jury and they replaced them
with a biased District Attorney. He feels subdued. The clock ticks by.
The nurses, much to his surprise, agree to let him shower with Kurt. They
earn an hour of privacy. It hurts like hell when he uses the walker, but
it gets him out of that bed and walking. The task feels arduous. Pain
flows through his body as he gets up and waddles to the shower. Kurt
waits for him inside. Nurse Jodi helps him into the shower.
Once he’s inside, the curtain slides. Kurt stands under the spray. He stares
at his bare chest and he feels inadequate. They used to make love in
the shower. He has no energy for that, not today. It lowers his spirit a
bit more. He loves sex--especially sex with Kurt.
They explored that realm of sexual desire together and now they had to use
their focus on bruises and stitches. His skin itches in the water, but
he welcomes the hands on his hips to help steady his feet. Kurt guides
his hands. He showers with care. The soap glides across his body. Kurt
washes his stitches. Hot, wet lips brush against his skin.
He welcomes the change, the tenderness behind these touches. Kurt keeps
this simple with a few kisses. He returns them in eager ernesty. They
kiss. He loves the way they heal his skin. They linger in the shower. He
wheezes as they walk back to his bed.
The shower leaves him exhausted. He sleeps with nightmares. The images
flowing through his mind do not stop. Sebastian walks free at the
moment. He could come back. The thought bothers him. He cannot stop
another attack.
Fear crawls around in his torn up belly. He thinks he’s safe here with Kurt
and Cooper, but security seems lax in this hospital. No police officer
protects him after Arbitration. He remembers that word. They took away
his legal rights. He hates them for it. Sebastian lurks in the darkness,
always wanting.