A/N: Written for the following prompt on the glee_angst_meme: At Blaine's old school he wasn't just bullied, he was horribly sexually harassed. There were two boys who constantly would yank him into janitor's closets or empty classrooms and molest him but he was too scared to say anything. When the violence finally turned to full on rape he begged his parents to let him transfer and got out of there. Now everything is going fine, he loves the Warblers, feels accepted and is getting along great with his crush Kurt. Then he sees the boys in the crowd at one of their concerts.

Warnings: Non-graphic description of past sexual abuse and rape.

Blaine couldn't remember the last time he was so content with life. They'd just finished performing at an exhibition show and completely blew the other schools out of the water, if the audience's applause was any indication. He was still riding on the wave of adrenaline, his steps were light and his hand was currently holding one Kurt Hummel's as they and the rest of the Warblers made their way to the bus to head back to the academy.

He swung their hands back and forth in wide arcs smiling widely at Kurt, who initially rolled his eyes, but smiled back just the same and looked very pleased with the current hand-holding. Blaine was going to ask him out tonight and with the way Kurt had been flirting back at him these past couple of weeks, he was fairly certain Kurt was going to say yes.

"Bunch of six-year-old girls," was muttered lowly at his side and Blaine snorted before elbowing Wes. Blaine expected the light, retaliating shove to his shoulder and laughed as he allowed the forward momentum to collide him into Kurt who looked scandalized. Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand once in apology and Kurt released a put upon sigh before his lips curved back into that familiar smile that never failed to make Blaine's heart race.

Blaine refocused his attention back towards the exit thinking how lucky he was and that nothing could bring him down today. It was then, of course, that his eyes locked on to those of Daniel Clifton and Jonathan Kramer and the world came to a stuttering halt.

Get off. Please.

Stop being such a f*cking cock tease. You can't say you didn't want this.

N-No, don't. Sto—

Shut up!

Someone collided into his back and Blaine flinched violently sidestepping and backpedaling until he was standing a few feet behind the Warblers who were all staring at him in varying degrees of surprise.

He vaguely heard someone ask him if he was okay, what was the matter, but his eyes wouldn't stray from Dan and Jon who appeared to be trying to place him in their memories. It was when recognition dawned and Dan smirked that Blaine turned to face Kurt and said numbly, "I'm going to be sick."

Kurt's eyes widened perceptibly and the next thing Blaine was aware of he was kneeling in a public bathroom stall throwing up everything he had eaten that morning.

He was uncertain how long he knelt there, hands braced on the toilet seat, eyes tearing as his body continued to convulse with his dry heaving. He was, however, very aware of anyone coming near him and would shudder reflexively away from any and all touches, letting loose a high, keening whine that he would later be mortified of making, and it didn't take long before everyone backed off.

When his nausea finally abated, Blaine swiped a shaky hand across his lips and settled himself against the bathroom stall, chest still heaving and stared vacantly at the opposite wall.

"Blaine?"

Blaine turned his head and saw both Kurt and Wes sitting just outside his stall, the latter's hand was braced on the door to keep it open. Kurt held out a cup of water and Blaine accepted it, rinsing his mouth and spitting into the toilet before flushing it. There was still some water left in the cup and he sipped it tentatively avoiding his friends' stares as he tried his best to calm his rapidly beating heart.

"Sorry," he finally whispered staring blankly at his bent knees. "I want to." He swallowed thickly. "Are they." His hands began to shake, the water he still held splashing over the rim of the paper cup. In response, Kurt reached out to take it, but Blaine instinctively recoiled back, apologizing all the while because he didn't want to be touched, not right now, sorry and God only hours before he was so elated to have their shoulders brush and to have Kurt's hand in his.

"We can head out the back entrance," Wes said breaking the silence, his steady and familiar timbre acting as a balm to his frayed nerves. "No one's permitted in that area except the performers."

'You'll be safe. No one can hurt you' were the general undertones to Wes' statement and Blaine clung to them tightly as if he were hanging off the edge of the world.

He sat there for a while longer until he was sure he could stand then placed the cup on the floor before doing just that. Kurt and Wes quickly followed suit and took a step back to give him space. Blaine didn't want that though, despite how he was feeling only moments before, and took a step forward, right hand reaching out and having two in return grasping his in a firm and reassuring grip. Wes tugged his hand until he could wrap his arm around Blaine's shoulders and Kurt relinquished his hold in order to take hold of his left hand.

Head bowed and sandwiched between his two friends, they left for Dalton.

oOo

"They would corner me once or twice a week. Drag me into the janitor's closet and..." Blaine's voice trailed off as his mouth went dry. He sat Indian style on his bed, forehead pressed against the wall and away from Kurt who sat beside him. Wes sat on the floor with his back against Blaine's bed.

Blaine inhaled a breath, licking his lips before he continued. "It wasn't." Bad, he was about to say, but laughed instead, shaking his head. "It was bad," he said, "and I was terrified out of my mind, but after a while, it just. They never hurt me, really, and...

"I got used to it," Blaine admitted lowly, his voice filled with shame and he squeezed his eyes shut against the stares he felt on his back. His body shuddered at the phantom breath that ghosted over his skin and hands that trailed roughly up his thighs and where no one but himself had ever touched before. He'd never told this to anyone. Not his teachers or his parents. No one. Too scared that people wouldn't believe him and of being outed to his parents, who at the time he wasn't certain would still love him despite him being gay.

"Blaine—"

Blaine shook his head, immediately silencing Kurt and said, "There's more."

Wes cursed from his seat on the floor, banging his fist against carpet, but it didn't make much noise than a soft thump.

"It was November. Some pep rally was going on. They were more excited. Rough. It was different." Blaine opened his eyes, staring at his white wall as images flashed across his mind and feelings resurfaced. "Jon sat on top of my shoulders. Dan pulled my jeans off...

"I screamed. They hit me, tried to cover my mouth, but I wouldn't stop. It didn't matter. No one heard me."

Kurt made some kind of choked sound of distress and Blaine let the sound wash over him. "It hurt," Blaine confessed softly fingering a loose thread on the quilt he sat on. "It hurt a lot."

Silence reigned over the room and Blaine shuttered his eyes once more. He had thought that after finally telling someone, he would feel different. Relieved? Less burdened? Better? Blaine didn't feel any one of those things. He was still just Blaine.

"Blaine?"

Blaine rolled his head until he could see Kurt, his right temple still pressed to the wall. Kurt's eyes were bright with unshed tears and he looked entirely too sad, but simultaneously earnest.

"Hm?"

"Can I...Is it all right if I give you a hug?"

Blaine blinked slowly, once before his lips curved into a small smile. It was a little broken, but no less sincere, and he said, "Yes. I would love that. Please."

Kurt's face crumpled just a little before he engulfed Blaine in a fierce hug. Blaine hesitated for just a second before his arms rose and wrapped around Kurt and he hugged him back burying his face into the other's shoulder, but not crying, never crying because he hadn't cried once since that day and he would never again. Not about this.

He felt a sudden pressure on his left knee and without looking dropped his left hand to cover Wes' and squeezed back.

This wasn't the end, or the beginning of an end. It just was. Though if Blaine were to label it something, if anything this moment was, in its purest form, love.

And it was exactly what he needed.