*No the rapist is not freaking Adam. He's made up, but he will come back, just an fyi.*

Alright so here it is. The darker Rane fic I mentioned I was writing. I want to stress again just how much I would never actually want this happen to Reed.

It was all about the angst for me, and even though this was so hard to write, there will be more to come. I promise.

So um. I'm sorry Reed!

Warnings: I did write the rape scene. I considered skipping it but no. I had to do it. Again I'M SORRY!

Don't kill me.

Title is based on the song Breathe Me by SIA.

Help. I have done it again.

It took guts. It really did. Admitting to yourself that you harbor romantic feelings for someone wasn't necessarily too hard. But telling that person, and in the form of a kiss, that took guts. Guts Reed doubted he even had prior to the moment when he decided to take the jump. And he was eternally thankful he did. Kissing Shane was great. Being with him was even better. And it was so easy he wondered what he had been so scared of.

If he wanted to hold Shane's hand he could, and he could do so without any fear of reciprocation, for Shane would just grin encouragingly and clutch back just as tightly. If he wanted to kiss Shane he could. He could press him up against a wall and kiss the breath out of him… not that he ever actually did such a thing. Blood rose to his cheeks at the thought. He wasn't quite that brave yet. But he hoped he could be… someday.

He wasn't naïve. He knew they would have to reach… that point in their relationship eventually. But he honestly couldn't see that happening anytime too soon. He still wasn't comfortable enough, and Shane seemed adamant on making sure he didn't do anything Reed wasn't completely ready for. Which he was thankful for. He may not be there yet, but he still had time. They'd only been dating a couple weeks after all.

He was thrown out of his thoughts as his foot snagged the root to that giant tree in front of Windsor he always seemed to forget about. He didn't fall very far as there seemed to be something pressing against the other side of the large canvas he was carrying.

"Hello!" a curly head poked out from behind the panting, taking it in his arms as he moved to stand beside Reed. As usual he had shed off his uniform as soon as possible, only wearing the white button down undershirt. Shane would gladly do anything for Reed, and that including transferring to Dalton, but that damn uniform was annoying.

"Are you alright?" He asked, looking amused as Reed collected himself, thankful that Shane was there to catch him and he now had his hands free.

"Yes," he replied, freeing his uniform of wrinkles. "Thank you."

Shane grinned. "I'm used to it."

Reed rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. "Ha ha."

"So, where are we heading?" Shane asked cheerfully as they continued to walk forward. He skipped ahead and turned around, walking backwards so he could face his boyfriend.

"Art Hall. I have two other paintings there so I was taking this one," he gestured to the canvas in Shane's arms, "there as well, so I could work without Kurt getting testy. He's been complaining about the amount of paint stained things our room possesses."

"I think your paint stained things are cute." Shane was still grinning. "Especially your paint stained overalls you don't let anyone see you in."

Reed could feel his face heat up and he looked to the ground. "Shut up," he said weakly.

Shane laughed. "So do I get to come along? I promise I won't pester you too much."

"I don't think that's such a good idea. Do you remember what happened last time?" Reed grimaced, images of a completely wreaked room complete with paint splattered walls and tables filling his mind. It wasn't entirely his fault, Shane was the one who instigated the paint fight.

Shane shrugged loosely. "So we got in trouble, so what?"

Reed stopped walking, staring at him incredulously. "Shane we were banned for a week."

Shane halted as well, grinning again. "So?"

"So I need that place." He sighed looking down. "I can't get permanently banned. Art is –"

"Important to you. I know." Shane's smile now looked genuine. "And I wouldn't do anything to upset you. Or get you in anymore trouble. I'll just walk with you, help set up, and leave you to it. Okay?" He shifted the canvas under his arm, holding the bottom with his fingers while his other hand was outstretched.

Reed smiled and took the hand. "Deal."

He kept their hands linked as they walked the short distance to the Art Hall, talking idly about their day. Shane was smiling down at him brightly and Reed knew he would never get over the way Shane looked at him, like he was the only person on the entire planet.

He helped Reed climb the stairs, making sure he didn't fall, like he always did, and guided him to the appropriate room.

After setting the painting he was carrying on a free stand, he turned back to the small artist. "So when do you expect you'll be done?"

Reed glanced at the celling, looking thoughtful. "I don't know, I have to finish three different paintings so it could take a few hours."

Shane started pouting, looking very much like a dog who just had his treat taken away. "I'm supposed to live through three Reedless hours?"

Reed laughed. "You'll survive."

"Hopefully." Shane smirked, leaning down to brush his lips lightly against Reed's.

Each and every time Shane kissed him Reed could feel the electricity pulsing though his veins. He still saw the fireworks as he did with their first kiss, and always would, no matter how small the kiss was. That was just how Shane made him feel.

Unbeknownst to him, Shane felt everything he did. He pulled back too soon though, and the grin was back.

"Try to hurry, okay?" He squeezed Reed's hand lightly before heading to the door. "I'll miss you." He waited until Reed said, "I'll miss you too" before he disappeared completely.

Reed shook his head, smiling to himself as he faced the painting Shane had been carrying, deciding to start with this one. It needed the most work so he figured he should get it out of the way before he got too tired.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his fluttering heart (just one of the many side effects of Shane's kisses) and focus. Finally able to get his thoughts together, he got to work, trying to drown out Shane and his way of working himself into Reed's mind not matter what he was doing.

He had been working for no more than ten minutes when he was interrupted again. Reed looked up in surprise to find a tall boy with messy dirty blonde hair and dark brown eyes blinking at him from the doorway. This boy had, like Shane, shed his blazer, only clad in the white button down, making it impossible to tell what house he belonged to. But Reed knew he had never seen him before. Which was odd for two reasons. The first being that he was generally familiar with everyone who lingered around the Art Hall. And secondly no one was supposed to be lingering around here at all today. He was supposed to be completely alone in the building, so who was this boy and why was he here?

"Oh um… hello," Reed said shyly. "Can I help you with something?"

The boy just continued to stare at him silently.

Reed shifted uncomfortably. "Well it's just that no one's supposed to be in here today..."

The boy's eyebrows pulled together. "Then why are you here? I know who you are. Reed van Kamp, apparent best artist in all of Dalton." He snorted sarcastically. "If you're here, I can be too. What, do you think you have some sort of jurisdiction over everyone else just because you can paint well?"

Reed's mouth was open and his eyes were wide. "No!" he squeaked, stunned by this random outburst.

"Then shut up and mind your business," the boy snapped coldly, striding into the room.

Reed immediately turned back to his canvas, feeling heat spread across his neck. Whoever this boy was, he really seemed to hate him. Reed decided it was best to just stay silent and continue working until this guy had whatever he needed and left.

He tried to ignore the rustling from behind him as the boy continued to search.

It was when he realized he was out of blue paint did the panic start to creep back. He would have to turn around to retrieve more and that meant facing the boy who so obviously detested him.

He swallowed his fear down, telling himself that he was being ridiculous. He didn't need to hide from this guy, and maybe he took his words the wrong way. Maybe he was just irritated that Reed felt the need to ask him questions. Perhaps it was Reed's fault, maybe he came across as too pushy.

He took a deep breath and turned around- and walked straight into a much taller body.

He could only stare in horror as his palette accidently pressed against the larger boy's chest, drenching his white shirt with the colors of Reed's remaining paint.

His voice unintentionally cracked, but before he could get the apology out the boy was shouting, "What the fuck is your problem! Don't you watch where you're going?"

Reed's palette clattered to the floor as he continued to stare, physically unable to do anything else, mortification gripping his muscles. If this boy didn't hate him before, now he sure did.

"I…" he squeaked for the second time that day. "I'm sorry!"

The boy turned on heel and stomped to the door, muttering something under his breath as he went. Reed couldn't be sure but he thought it sounded like, "Not as sorry as you're gonna be."

The mortification was replaced by crippling fear that only increased when he realized the boy wasn't going to the door to leave, he was locking it. When he pulled the blinds down Reed knew he was doomed. This boy was going to make him pay for messing up his shirt, and he was going to do so by beating him to a pulp.

His gulped and started backing away unconsciously.

Please, let him just beat me up and get it over with. Please don't let it hurt too badly.

When the boy started advancing on him, looking quite menacing, Reed started to visibly shake.

Oh god, here it comes

His train of thought stopped when the boy before him lifted his lithe fingers to undo the buttons on his paint splattered shirt. Which Reed thought was odd.

When the shirt fell to the floor, Reed was finally able to find his voice.

"W-what are you doing?" he inwardly flinched at how utterly pathetic and small his voice sounded, no doubt a parallel to how he appeared.

The boy who was now half naked didn't speak, only continued to stare down at him with unfiltered hatred in his blazing eyes. He came to a stop, directly in front of Reed who was now backed into the wall, trapped.

He grabbed onto the lapels of Reed's blazer, hands right over his frantic heart. Every heart beat seemed shattering as the fear tightened its hold on Reed's body.

He was about to attempt repeating his question when the boy jerked his hands apart swiftly, forcing Reed's previously buttoned blazer open. The buttons popped off and were already falling to the floor with soft clinks before Reed realized what had happened. When the blazer was shoved off his shoulders and thrown to the ground, Reed seemed to understand.

With the boy's hand vastly making work of unbuttoning Reed's white undershirt, it set in with firmness. No wonder this guy had taken his paint ruined shirt off, he was going to take Reed's in compensation.

That thought was suddenly seeming sillier and sillier as the panic coursing through his veins increased when the boy finished unbuttoning his shirt but made no move to remove it.

He instead left it open as his eyes narrowed into venomous slits and his hands trailed down Reed's open shirt until they reached the bottom. They lingered there for a moment before dropping to his belt.

Realization was suddenly drowning him as every fiber in his being filled to the brim with unmistakable terror. All it took were those long fingers tugging on his belt buckle and Reed began kicking wildly. He screamed, pounding his fists into any and everything, blinded by the tears that were suddenly flooding in his eyes.

The boy didn't seem too concerned just yet, and he quickly undid the belt despite all Reed's kicking.

"No!" Reed screamed, successfully landing a blind punch right on the other's jaw. "Don't touch me! Let me go!"

He continued shouting until the boy regained himself and punched Reed in the stomach hard, causing him to cough violently. "Stop screaming!"

Reed drew in a jagged breath, eyes swimming. It hurt to breathe and now the boy had successfully pulled his belt off. He knew he had to do something, if not then he knew what this boy would do to him. He knew and he couldn't let it happen. He needed to get out of here and fast.

His thoughts were cut short when the boy dropped his belt, bringing his hands up to grab onto Reed's face, forcing their lips together.

Reed's feet scrapped across the floor as he started struggling against the hold that was lifting him somewhat off the ground, toes barely touching the surface of the floor. This boy's kisses felt nothing like Shane's. Shane's kisses were loving, sweet and gentle, whereas this kiss was anything but. His lips were pressed so hard it was painful, and instead of feeling butterflies, the only thing he could feel was the sheer terror.

He clawed at the other boy's hands, trying his best to get him to let go. Doing the only thing he could think off, he brought his knee up harshly, right where he knew it would send the other boy howling. Using this distraction, he broke away, pushing himself off the wall he began sprinting towards the door.

He was so determined to get out of the room he didn't notice he was running right to where his palette had landed on the floor, smearing the ground with paint. And in the clumsy fashion he was so known for, he slid right over it, sending him crashing to the floor was a painful smack.

He groaned from where he lay face down as the pain radiated from every part of his body. His blood turned cold when he heard chuckling from above him, followed by a satanic voice. "You're really making this way too easy."

He suddenly found himself being jerked around, made to lie on his back while the other boy hovered before him. He seemed to dig in his pocket for something before he moved to painfully sit on Reed's legs, effectively trapping him.

Reed started squirming again, knowing his chances were futile. This boy was so much bigger than he was, and now he was sitting on him. There was no way he was going to get out of this.

The tears started to fall then, they had been building for so long, and his breath became battered by sobs.

"Please," he gasped between chokes, "Please let me go. I'm sorry."

The boy over him seemed to be unaffected by this as he continued to focus. He had brought the belt with him in his left hand and was now working to unbutton Reed's pants. As soon as this was accomplished, he immediately pulled down the zipper.

Reed's wailing became louder at this and his sobbing heavier.

"Please!" he cried, "Please don't do this please!"

The boy's lips twitched as he brought a hand up and sent it backhanding across Reed's cheek. "I told you to stop screaming."

He became quieter, trying to focus on breathing. Every breath hurt and he could barely see through all the tears in his eyes. He started kicking his legs weakly to no avail. He could barely move them.

His crying became louder again when the boy started tugging at his pants.

"Stop!" he screamed. When the boy on top of him had to shift his weight to continue pulling Reed's bottoms off, Reed saw his chance and took it, kicking wilding again and managing to kick the boy right between the legs. He scurried backwards, but unfortunately didn't get very far before the boy grabbed his ankle and jerked him back.

He cried out when the boy punched him in the stomach again. His hand flashed in the light and Reed suddenly realized what he had been digging in his pocket for. A knife.

"Do that again," he began, boring down at him with the scariest expression Reed had ever seen, "And see what happens."

He laid the cold blade of the switch knife against Reed's bare stomach threateningly. And as though trying to make sure the message got across, he quickly slashed it across Reed's side, right above his hip bone. The pain came in a flash of rippling stinging.

Reed cried out again when he felt his skin tear and he could already feel the wetness of the blood. His sobs became thicker when the boy finally managed to jerk his pants all the way off, pulling his shoes off as well, and leaving Reed only in his boxers and the open undershirt.

"Stop," he mumbled as best he could, the sobs taking his voice. "Please stop."

This only seemed to make the other boy grin as he started to undo his own pants.

Reed wailed again, the tears were making it impossible to discern anything and were still falling hot and freely onto his cheeks, making his face wet and sticky.

For a moment the only sound filling the room was Reed's choked sobs. His breath was jagged as he continued to gasp and cry.

When he noticed the other boy's pants were now completely undone he seemed to realize what would happen next. He began screaming, as loudly as his sore throat would let him, praying anyone would hear.

"Help! Help me!" A thought suddenly dawned on him. "Shane!" he screamed the name as loud as he possibly could, ignoring the tearing sensation in his throat. "Shane please!" he continued yelling. "Save me!"

This made the other boy, who had looked irritated at Reed's screams, now laugh a little. "I don't know who Shane is but he isn't going to save you."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Reed knew he was right. But he had to keep trying. Shane was always there to save him, always.

"Shane!" he continued. "Please help!"

The boy just rolled his eyes and slipped his hand into the waistband of Reed's small boxers. This caused him to start screaming again, kicking his legs and trying his best to wiggle his way out.

"Stop! Please! I'll do anything, just please don't!" His voice was so strained it hurt to talk. He was screaming again when he felt the cool air on his now exposed hips. "No! Stop!"

This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. His first sexual experience was supposed to be romantic and special. It was supposed to be with Shane. And now his thoughts turned to that excitable dancer. What would he say if he found out?

"Stop!" he screamed like he was dying, and maybe a small part of him was. He started swinging his arms, hoping to at least land another punch. When he did, the boy on top of him growled, letting go of his boxers, which thankfully weren't yet removed, and grabbed onto Reed's wrists instead, fingers digging in roughly enough to leave bruises.

"Let me go!" he cried, eyes so flooded he couldn't see the boy snarling down at him. "Please, please just let me go. I won't say anything I swear!"

The boy now grunted, tired of this, and released the wrists to slap a hand over Reed's mouth harshly. He pressed the blade in his other hand to the smaller boy's throat tightly. "If you make one more sound, I will slit your throat. Do you understand?"

Reed began breaking down again. With his mouth covered and his nose stuffed it was even harder to breathe as his choking only worsened. He nodded and the boy pulled his hand, which was getting soaked by Reed's tears, back, allowing Reed to gasp for breath.

He tried fighting weakly again but his movements were halted when the boy shifted his weight to grab onto Reed's shoulders and force him to roll onto his stomach. Pain surged through his chest as it connected with the floor.

His button down was pulled harshly from his arms and thrown to the floor. He could feel his wrists being tightly gripped again, but the hands soon pulled away and were replaced with the cool leather of his belt.

Forgetting the threat from earlier, he screamed out again, knowing that once his hands were bound he would have absolutely no chance at escape. Not that he really had a chance before…

Once his hands were secured together, tight enough to make his wrists throb, he could feel the terror washing over his body with a new level of intensity. He knew what would be happening next.

It took him off guard when he was pulled off the floor by his bound arms. He was forced to stand on quivering legs, as his whole body was shaking, for all of two seconds before the boy was behind him, pushing him into the table in the middle of the room.

Breath was knocked out of his lungs as his bare chest collided with the wood of the desk. His arms were still tied behind his back as he was forced to lay with his torso across the top of the table, feet still planted to the floor.

His crying became louder as he felt the pulling on his boxers, his broken sobs echoing off the walls of the room.

All it took was one swift tug and his boxers were down, not all the way off, but far enough for his whole backside to be exposed. It was becoming difficult to breathe again as all he could do was cry.

Over the sound of his sobs he could faintly hear the crinkling of some kind of paper. He knew exactly what that meant. This was real. This was happening. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it. He was at a total loss of control. All he could do was hope it would be over soon.

And suddenly pain. So much pain ripping through his lower half like wildfire, sending shocks all over his body. He couldn't stop the scream that tore from his throat, no doubt louder than the rest for this was the single most painful thing he'd ever endured. Worse than anything that ever earned him a trip to the hospital, and God knows there were many broken bones and stitches to speak of. But no. This was so much worse than any pain his clumsiness had caused him. And knowing what was causing this; that was like death.

His eyes squeezed shut but a few tears still managed to slide down his cheeks. His chest was constricting and a hollow feeling was consuming his whole body.

With another merciless slam from behind him sending all the agony back tenfold, the reality of the situation was crashing. Why was this happening to him? When did he ever do something so terrible to deserve this?

More thrusts brought more pain and his choked gasps rung through the room only ever interrupted by sobs. His crying continued as he tried to think about anything, anything other than what was happening to him. It seemed impossible though, as the only thing his shocked mind could register was the intense pain. He tried to block out what was causing it. But that wasn't working either.

His eyes creaked back open, but he couldn't discern anything through his still falling tears, the art room looking like one mess of watery colors.

He started struggling again, weakly kicking and trying to get his arms to move. He realized this was a mistake when what had to be the back side of the knife was struck against the skin of his back harshly, causing him to scream again. The pain intensified with every strained movement, so he quickly ceased all movement before he was screaming again as nails were scraped painfully down his back followed by the pointed end of the blade.

"What did I say about keeping quiet?" a husky voice asked from behind him. This only caused him to break back down in a fit of sobs.

There were more powerful jerks of the other boy's hips that brought more pain as he seemed completely intent on making this just as horrible as possible for the small, sobbing form on the table.

Reed squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to block out the world around him. His breath hitched as he continued to lie still, now knowing that moving only made it worse. His arms were still bound behind his back and the leather was making his wrists feel raw.

He kept his eyes closed as he doused himself in fantasies, imagining all the things he could have done differently, all the ways he could have stopped this. He tried to get lost in the different scenarios of Shane bursting through the door and, as soon as he realized what was happening, striding across the room to beat the life out of this person who dared to hurt him like this. Then he would rock him back and forth, kissing his tears away and telling him he would be okay, that monster wasn't going to hurt him anymore, it was all over now; his prince had finally come to rescue him.

But he didn't. Shane never came.

And even through all his imagining there was the under layered part of his mind that could still feel everything that was happening to him. All the pain, all the hurt, and all the fear. His tears never stopped falling, making his eyes sting and a lump form in his raw throat. He couldn't stop crying. He couldn't stop any of it.

Finally after what felt like hours, the boy stopped moving, and Reed opened his burning eyes slowly, trying not to think about what the ceasing of movement meant was happening.

It was by surprise that the boy jerked back, pain shocking through Reed's body as he did. He was suddenly pulling on Reed's bound wrists roughly. Cool air was soon breezing over the scalding skin that had been rubbed red by the leather of his belt. There was a sudden jolt of surprise as his back was now struck by the belt harshly. He cried out, back erupting in more pain as the boy continued to leave swollen welts on his skin with every whip of the belt. Reed screamed, feeling like his back was on fire, until the boy finally stopped, dropping the belt to grab a fist full of the strawberry curls, forcing Reed's tortured back to arch painfully. There was a slight stinging on his throat as he realized the blade was now pressed to his neck.

Hot breath was ghosting over his ear, along with the deep voice that accompanied it. "Don't pretend like you didn't like it. You could have easily escaped, that is… if you wanted to." His cruel laugh sent shivers down Reed's spine and a cold feeling of terror washing over his body, especially when he continued. "But if you tell anyone, I will not hesitate to kill you." He pressed the knife into Reed's skin threateningly, only deep enough to draw a straight line of red. "I know who you are, and I know all about you." He quickly flipped him over so that Reed was on his back awkwardly, not quite laying on the table, feet still on the floor. He gave him a brutal punch to the cheek, followed by another hit to his still sore stomach. Reed collapsed onto the floor in a heap of gasps and sobs, struggling to breathe. "Got that, Windsor boy?" He kicked Reed's stomach one last time before turning and striding out of the room, collecting his paint stained shirt from the floor and shoving his arms into the sleeves as he went.

Reed made sure he was gone before he let his weeping commence, reaching down to pull his boxers up with shaking hands. The lump in his throat was making breathing all the move painful as his sobs didn't calm.

It hurt to move. It hurt to think. But still, he had to get to the other side of the room to where the rest of his clothes lay. Deciding that walking would bring too much suffering, he crawled on his hands and knees, trying to ignore the pain that still insisted on making itself known.

He reached his shirt and pants first and swiftly tugged them on, struggling to get the belt he now hated through the correct loops. His shoes came next, but he simply slipped them on, not even bothering with the laces. His hands were shaking so badly he doubted he could even tie them. Every movement sent a flurry of pain jerking through his body.

Crawling over to the wall, he snatched the blazer off the floor, shoving his arms in quickly. When he realized his undershirt was still unbuttoned he hastily fastened a few, only enough to make the shirt appear closed, for his hands had yet to calm down and his tears were making everything blurry and impossible to see.

This proved to be a problem when he started to pick up the buttons that had been ripped from his blazer. Every time he collected a few, they would start spilling out of his trembling hands, clattering back to the floor.

The combination of his sobs and fear were making his whole body shake, and that was making it impossible to hold all the buttons in his hands. He didn't get frustrated when they spilt though, he barely even registered it. He was in a state of shock and disorientation.

He still couldn't believe what just happened to him. That could never have happened to anyone he knew, let alone him. That was something from the movies, something you heard about in horrible news reports that you sympathized with but were never really affected by. Something that you knew about but wasn't ever going to happen to you.

But it did happen. And it wouldn't stop replaying over and over again in Reed's mind. All the buttons tumbled out of his hands then as they were instead being wrapped around his legs, which were drawn up to his chest, the action causing bouts of pain.

He started rocking, burying his head into his knees, not bothering to conceal his sobs that bounced off the walls much louder than before, no longer afraid he would be punished for making too much noise.

His chest heaved painfully as it was still quite difficult to breathe properly. His nose was stuffed and his eyes were still stinging but the tears kept falling, and he was completely unable to stop them.

Everything hurt. His body hurt, his head hurt, his soul hurt. It was all too much to take. So he cried. He cried and cried.

He didn't know how long he sat there, rocking and sobbing, but the sun had begun to set, making the sky appear a faint pink color. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped someone would walk in, see him there, and help. He needed someone, anyone.

He needed Shane.

But no one came.

He was left alone, crying harder than he ever had in his life, more scared than he'd ever been in his life… more hurt than he'd ever been in his life.

He slowly released his legs that had been going numb and scooped up the buttons, successfully this time, in one hand, his shaking somewhat calmed.

He knew he had to stand then, he had to get out of the building somehow, but it didn't make it any easier.

He clutched onto a side table nearby, using it to haul himself up. The pain returned, tearing through his body like a blade and making him whimper. He gritted his teeth together, trying not to cry out as the pain continued to throb through his whole body. He tried not to think about where it hurt the most.

He drew in a jagged breath, taking a single step forward and squeezing his eyes closed. Walking made it worse. But he had to get out of this room. He never wanted to step foot in this entire building ever again.

So he took a deep breath and began walking, tears welling up at how badly it hurt to do so. Once he was out of the room, he quickened his pace, ignoring every sensation in his body that screamed at him to do the opposite.

White, hot pain flashed when he had to descend the stairs. But he didn't care. He was almost out of this building, and once he was, he would never be coming back.

Finally reaching his destination, he threw the back door open, practically limping as he ran. He stayed in the grass, dancing on the edge of woods, making sure he didn't wander far enough in the open for someone to see. The few bystanders that did see him only gave curious expressions, wondering why he was running, or at least trying to.

Flashes of pain were sparking up his spine, sending wave after wave all through his body. Just moving hurt so incredibly much. It felt like he was reliving the whole thing all over again.

But still, he didn't slow. His half limping sprint stayed in full tack until he eventually reached Windsor house. But he kept going. He went right passed the house, running instead to the back door. He didn't want anyone to see him like this.

At first all he wanted was Shane to come to his rescue, see what had happened and make everything better. But now he didn't want anyone to know. No one could know, especially Shane. What would he say if he found out, what would he think, do? He would probably be disgusted that Reed had allowed something like this to happen to him, that he wasn't strong enough to ward his attacker off. He was probably already so jaded from having to catch and save Reed all the time. Once he finds out someone had done this to him… Reed couldn't even think about it. Shane would hate him. He would be disappointed, outraged… revolted.

But worse; what if he thought Reed wanted it? What if he accused Reed of cheating on him since it was utterly all his fault?

And even worse than that; what if Shane didn't believe him?

Reed's stomach began twisting, a nauseating feeling gripping at his gut and churning it. He was starting to feel physically ill. No. No, Shane could never find out.

He choked down the new sobs that arose at these thoughts and pulled the door open. After peering into the house and making sure there was no one around, he staggered into the kitchen. He peaked around the corner to where the stairwell waited, leading up into the haven that was his room. Only a couple boys loitered around, do homework or studying. They barely even glanced up when Reed came stumbling into the room, running to and up the stairs.

Going down the steps of the Art Hall had been extremely painful, but ascending the stairs here was even worse. The ripping and tearing sensation was starting afresh and he had to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out.

When he finally reached his floor he broke out into another sprint, ignoring how it felt. He didn't—he couldn't think about why it hurt so bad to walk.

He fell against the door, blinded by the once again flowing tears. After a couple seconds of fumbling with the knob, the door flew open and he went tumbling inside, immediately slamming it shut. He was endlessly relieved to see the room empty and vacant, Kurt nowhere in sight.

He stepped forward, his balance wobbly, and walked over to his bed, knowing the pain would decrease as soon as he could sit. This proved to not be entirely plausible for as soon as he sat on ground, the pain amplified.

He cried out, shifting onto his knees and trying to bury the hurt as far down as it could go. He reached underneath his bed, pulling out a small plastic box and turning so that his back was against the footboard of his bed. He let the buttons fall from his hand and onto the carpet.

Shaking fingers removed the lid and began searching through his sewing box, trying to find the right color thread. Once he found it, already attached to a needle, he shrugged his blazer off, turning it over in his hands and trying to determine through the heavy mist in his eyes where the buttons were supposed to go.

He picked up one button, trying to calm his shaking and focus. It wasn't working at all though, as pricks and pokes sent little jabs of pain through his fingers. He knew he was stabbing himself more than actually sewing, but the tears wouldn't stop. And neither would the trembling.

He was soon lost in another fit of hysterics, sobbing roughly, but trying to keep it together. He was failing miserably as the choking began.

This couldn't have happened to him. Why him? Why?

The scene kept replaying in his mind, over and over, just like a horror movie in an old VCR. Play, pause, rewind, play, pause, rewind. But this was no horror movie. This was real. The constant memory of the other boy's laugh, his face, his scent, his grunting, that was real. The reminder of everything that had happened in the form of the pain radiating from there was also real. And the throbbing on his battered back from the beating he received afterwards that accented the threat that was made after… that was real too.

He squeezed his eyes shut, rocking slightly on his knees, trying to block it all out. To make it stop. Please make it stop!

His eyes flew open and he jolted a bit in surprise when the door suddenly opened. Panic caused his watery eyes to widen when the only thing he could make out from the blurry vision of the person who had entered was black curls.

Oh God no. Not him. Anyone but him.

"Oh Reed, there you are. What –"

The voice stopped immediately. But that voice wasn't the familiar tenor of Shane's. It was still deep though, but could only belong to the dancer's brother.

Blaine gasped. Taking in the image of Reed, sitting on his knees and attempting to sew buttons back onto the blazer in his hands. His eyes were red and puffy with cheeks soaked by tears to match. His nose was leaking as well but his shaking hands made no move to whip his face clean. His whole body was trembling and he looked about two seconds away from a complete breakdown. If he wasn't having one already. Blaine could hear his choked sobs from across the room. He could also detect a small trail of blood dripping down his neck.

"Oh my god," he gasped again, rushing to sit in front of him, peering down with every ounce of concern he was capable of. "What the hell happened to you?" Reed didn't answer, looking down to the floor, letting more cries escape his lips. "Were you attacked? Did someone beat you up?" He stayed silent, only continuing to cry. "Reed please! You have to talk to me!"

He reached a hand out to touch Reed's shoulder gently in what was supposed to be comforting manner. Reed appeared to not have taken that way, as he screamed, throwing Blaine's hand off violently.

Blaine stared in shock. That's when he noticed the large, red stain soaking through the side of Reed's white button down, above his right hip. He gasped again and then noticed something that should have been immediately obvious. His button down wasn't exactly buttoned. Only a couple were fastened and the ones that were weren't in the correct holes, making the shirt bunched up and uneven. He also noted the belt that wasn't even clasped together and had missed quite a few loops, both things obviously done in haste and indifference.

He could feel his jaw fall open as everything started to click into place. The weeping, the shaking, the fear, the blood, the clothes. He looked up into Reed's glassy brown eyes, which were filled to brim with terror, silently begging him to figure it out and to remain oblivious to it all at the same time.

"Reed." The shock was making it impossible for him to feel any anger. Not until he knew for sure… "Reed, tell me what happened."

Strawberry blond curls went flying as he shook his head frantically, looking more scared than Blaine had ever seen him.

"Reed!" Blaine laid his hands on the other boy's shoulders, silently cringing when Reed winced and tried to wiggle his way out of Blaine's grasp. "Reed calm down! I'm not going to hurt you! But you have to tell me who did!"

"No!" Reed screamed, looking terrified. "No! Don't touch me! Let me go!"

That was enough for Blaine. Fury rushed through his veins, but he had to bottle it down. He didn't want to scare Reed even more.

He dropped his hands and waited until Reed's sobs had somewhat calmed down. He was still gripping onto the needle, and when Blaine saw the red liquid dripping from his palm, he gently pulled his wrist, opening his fingers and taking the needle away.

"Reed," he whispered gingerly, swallowing nervously. "Reed… were you… were you raped?"

He doesn't miss how Reed visibly flinches at the word and how his face scrunches up in pain as the crying gets harder.

That confirmed it then. Blaine had to clench his fists to keep the rage in.

"I'm sorry!" Reed cried out. "I'm so sorry! I didn't want to do it I swear! I would never!" he gasped, looking choked. "I begged him to stop over and over but he wouldn't listen! I'm sorry…"

Blaine set his jaw, gritting his teeth to stop his lip from quivering, anger and anguish making his eyes flood and spill over.

"It's okay," he said and he could physically feel the grief in his voice. "It wasn't your fault."

Momentarily forgetting Reed's reaction to being touched, he threw the sewing box out of the way, closing the distance between them and wrapping Reed in his arms so he could comfort him as much as possible.

The smaller boy cried out as the sudden movement sent pain shocking through his system. Blaine began whispering sweet nothings, rubbing his back as he cried into his chest, Reed's arms gripping onto the dark hair boy's blazer.

As soon as his hand trailed over the sobbing boy's back, he cried out again, hands tightening their hold. Blaine's eyebrows drew in and he glanced down at Reed's back, now noticing the red stains that dotted along the white fabric.

He gently lifted Reed out of his arms. "What happened to your back?"

Reed just shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it anymore.

"Can I see?" Blaine looked so devastated and Reed felt guilt at the sight. All of this was his fault. He was causing all this distress to his friend. All because he was too weak to fight…

He went to unbutton the shirt, now seeing just how off he'd been with the buttons. No wonder Blaine had figured it out. It was quite obvious.

He let the shirt slip from his shoulders and onto the floor, trying to block out all the fear and images of when he was last disrobed.

Blaine's eyes scanned over his chest and stomach, noting everything seemed okay there, aside from the deep red skin right above his belly button that was no doubt beginning to bruise and the slash on his hip that was still dripping blood.

Reed was fidgeting his hands, twisting them nervously with his eyes sealed shut. Blaine knew how hard it must be to be sitting in front of someone, half naked after what just happened to him.

He noticed something else Reed's shirt had been hiding; his wrists. They were red and chafed, and there were spots of blood seeping through the blisters. Someone had obviously bound his hands. Blaine clenched his teeth closed, feeling the anger return. But he swallowed it down. He couldn't focus on that right now.

He gently took Reed into his arms again so that he could get a peek at his back. What he saw made the anger come flowing back with abundance.

Blood was leaking out of no less than ten swollen welts that lined his back. Through them all he could vaguely make out red scratch marks, left by what could have only been another pair of fingernails.

To keep from shouting a curse, he bit down on his lips so hard he could taste the coppery tang of blood. Somebody— no, some animal (for what kind of human being could this to another?) had actually whipped him with something thick, and it was done hard enough to draw blood.

He could feel Reed breaking down against him, and he settled on patting his friend's hair, trying to calm down and force the red to leave his vision. He had never been this angry in his life. Even with Logan. Nothing Logan ever did to him even came close to how this made him feel.

That's when he realized something. He lifted Reed up again, taking notice to the look of pain Reed sported each time he had to move. When he figured out why, the red returned to his sight.

"Reed." He said with firmness, trying not to sound too harsh but at the same time press the importance of his next words. "Reed you have to tell me who did this."

He sobbed, shaking his head again. "I can't," he whispered, voice sounding broken.

"You have to! Don't you get it? If you don't tell me he could do this to you again!" Reed wailed at that, shaking harder and hugging himself. "He could do this to Kurt! To anyone! You can't let him get away with it!"

"I don't have a choice!" he cried. "He told me he knows everything about me. He said he'd kill me if I said anything!"

Blaine growled to himself, looking down.

"Besides," Reed whispered, lips quivering. "I don't even know who he is."

Blaine's brows pulled together. So this was just some stranger. Some random person who came into Reed's life just long enough to turn it upside down, to ruin it. He clenched his fists again, wishing with all his might that he knew just who the stranger was.

He sighed instead, calming down for Reed's sake. He reached for his hand, holding it for comfort.

"Come on, we have to take you to the hospital wing."

Reed's hand flew back so fast you'd think Blaine's hand was made of fire.

"No!" he screamed, eyes widening to display every ounce of panic he felt. "Don't you get it? Nobody can know about this! Nobody!"

"But," Blaine began to protest. "What about STD's? What if you're hurt…" He remembered the look of pain that flashed across those brown eyes every time he had to move. He could understand why. And it made his blood boil.

Reed shook his head, looking to the floor and hiding beneath his hair, embarrassed by what he had to say. "No." he squeaked. "No he… he wore a… a…" His voice broke off, unable to finish the sentence as the sobs left him unable to speak.

Blaine's lips formed a tight line, jaw tensed.

How thoughtful, he thought sarcastically.

He stared at the ground, trying to get his anger in check. He was still unable to fathom it. How could this happen to Reed of all people? Who on Earth had so much evil consuming them they would do something like this to Reed. Why did this have to happen to him? He was probably least equipped to handle something like this. But that was probably what drew the monster in. His vulnerability.

Blaine closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. "Reed, I know you're scared, but we have to tell someone."

This caused Reed's head to snap back up, eyes wide with terror. "No! No Blaine please! We can't tell anyone! He'll find out and he'll kill me!"

"No he won't." Blaine tried to reassure, but he could tell it had no affect at all on the panicked boy.

"Yes he will! Nobody can know, please!" He looked desperate. "And that goes for everyone! None of them! Nobody, especially Sh- Sh –" He couldn't bring himself to say the name.

Blaine still understood but was confused as to why. "But why not? Why would you want to hide this from him?"

Reed now turned frantic. "Don't you know what he'll think of me? What he'll say?" his voice broke. "He'll think I wanted it…"

Blaine's eyebrows rose in surprise. "No Reed he would never –"

"Promise!" Reed screamed, cutting him off. "Promise me you won't tell!"

Blaine bit his lip, eyes swimming. He knew they needed to tell someone anyone. But he also knew he shouldn't force Reed to do anything, especially with what just happened. Not as long as he expected Reed to trust him.

He knew it had to be his decision. Reed had to be completely in control, now that the control over one of the most critical points of his life was taken in such a way.

Every fiber in his being told him that he needed to get Reed help, tell someone. But the look the smaller boy was giving him, so terrified, so scared, lost, hurt, helpless and desperate made Blaine's perspective change. He couldn't bear to hurt him any further.

So he whispered the two words he knew he would regret sometime in the future.

"I promise."