Wrote on my iPhone at one in the morning - excuse any grammatical mistakes I didn’t correct.
Title : I’ll Cover You (Wounded)
Summary : Kurt gets in trouble and is sent to Dalton Academy, a reform school. Problem is - that “trouble” he got into didn’t leave him intact.
When your phone rings at 3am, it’s rarely good news. The best course of action would be to ignore the call and deal with things in the morning.
But Kurt Hummel wasn’t the kind to ignore calls from his friends. Or in this case, from his stepbrother’s best friend.
That’s how he had ended up in Target’s parking lot in the middle of the night. To pick up Noah Puckerman. Who had been “meeting up” with two guys who owed him money.
And things had gotten out of control, of course.
The moment Kurt had stepped out of the car, he had been thrown to the pavement.
A few well aimed kicks later, he could barely register when Puck had hit his attacker with a baseball bat, which he had handed Kurt before helping him up and facing the second guy.
Kurt had simply stood there during the 3 minutes it took for Puck to beat the guy out cold.
Which appeared to be the same amount of time it took the Police to show up. And Kurt was holding a bat covered with blood. Wrong place, wrong time.
Wrong friends ?
Kurt made out the words “empty record” and “reform school” in the middle of the judge’s speech, followed shortly with his father’s protests.
His ribs still didn’t allow him to breathe correctly and he nearly fainted when the final judgement was pronounced.
Noah Puckerman was being sent back to juvie. Kurt Hummel was being sent to a reform school until the end of the school year - unless he had a good behavior, which would allow him a release after 3 months only.
So there he was, leaving his dad at the school’s gate.
Enormous letters made of iron and fixed to the cement walls read “Dalton Academy - Reform School For Boys”.
Kurt shivered. He was not going to make it. Ever since that dreadful night he couldn’t stand anyone touching him and was extremely jumpy, reacting to even the softest noise.
He felt like crying when the guard lead him in the direction of the main supervisor’s office, one strong hand on his frail shoulder.
Blaine Anderson did not like being pushed around. Which is the reason why, when some kid bumped into him in the corridor, he reacted the usual Dalton Academy way and threw that kid into the nearest locker, grabbing him by the collar.
He had expected everything - a punch in the face, some form of resistance, anything - but this.
The kid whimpered in pain when his back met the hard metal. His eyes - blue, Blaine noticed, and just plain beautiful - widened in shock and pain… but most of all, and that’s what startled Blaine, from shear fear. The kid was absolutely frightened, his arms up in surrender, lips quivering.
Blaine’s jaw fell, his eyes narrowing.
The boy murmured a strangled “please, please don’t hurt me, please” and Blaine felt like crying. He let go of him and stepped back, taking in the whole appearence of the kid.
Taller than Blaine by a couple of inches, his skinny jeans hugged him in all the right places. His knee-high boots and designer shirt were so out of place in a reform school Blaine wondered how he had even been allowed in. He looked so fragile, so pale, so… angel-like.
And broken. He looked broken. And so, so scared.
“What’s your name ?”, he asked, trying to remember how one is supposed to sound gentle
“K-Kurt… I- please, I wasn’t paying attention to where I w-was going, please don’t hurt me… I won’t do it again, please !”
“Dude, relax, it’s fine - are you lost or something ?”
It occured to Blaine that he might be visiting someone - what else would an angel be doing in the dorm building ?
“Y-Yes I was… looking for the c-common room, I’m supposed to get some supplies for m-my dorm…”
“You mean… You’re a student here ?”
He couldn’t believe it… Kurt looked like someone who gently picked up insects in a box to put them outside rather than crushing them. The boy - Kurt - must’ve felt Blaine’s confusion because he looked down at his feet in shame, nodding.
That’s when Blaine noticed the bruises on the patch of porcelaine skin he’d revealed by grabbing his collar. Analysing the boy further, he figured his attitude did match the one of people who had been beaten up.
And it was something that was never seen at Dalton - whenever there was a fight, kicks came from both sides. No one went to sit in a corner and weep afterwards, no matter how bad it had been. No one was jumpy and scared of the others.
Kurt just could not belong here.
Blaine felt the sudden need to find whoever had done this to him and kick them, beat them until there was nothing left to hit.
He shook his head a took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
“You shouldn’t be here, Kurt”, Blaine said, “not if you’re gonna jump ten feet in the air whenever someone slams you into a locker…”
“I di-didn’t do anything to be here, there was a… a misunderstanding…”
He’d heard many Dalton students say this. Almost everyone did. But this time, he actually believed him.
“Who did this to you ?”
He gestured towards the bruises, nose wrinkled in anger. He saw a new wave of pain flash through Kurt’s eyes. Memories of a time far, far away suddenly appeared in Blaine’s mind.
“Did - your father ?”
Kurt looked up, shocked.
“No ! No, he would never !”
Blaine swallowed with some difficulty. Oh, how he would’ve loved finding the idea of his father beating him crazy and shocking.
Sadly, it wasn’t the case. He sighed, figuring Kurt was probably not going to open up to him so fast.
He straightened his leather jacket when he heard footsteps at the end of the corridor. He forced a hard look on his face, the “bad boy” attitude a mask covering any emotion he’d shown before.
Kurt looked confused again and leaned a little further into the lockers, wincing.
“The common room is downstairs. On your left. Be careful Kurt…”, he whispered, “Hope we’ll run into each other soon !” he added with a wink and a smirk
Kurt blushed a deep red and nodded, pushing himself off the wall and walking rapidly towards the stairs. Blaine dropped his gaze to the boy’s rear.
“Damn…”, he whispered appreciatively, “Another reason I’m definitely keeping an eye on you, Kurt…”
Will be continued, maybe…