Blaine woke up before his alarm even went off and revelled on what he had seen in his dream. Once again he dreamed of meeting his soulmate, his beautiful, even though faceless in the dream, soulmate. He thought about it all the time. How perfect everything would be, how they would fall into each other's arms and confess their undying love right away. They would laugh and kiss, and it would be the best day of his life.

The boy rolled onto his back and stretched his stiff muscles that felt heavy after sleeping for over nine hours. He checked his phone to find his friend's text but ignored it, telling himself it could wait until later. He opened his bedside drawer and dug inside until he found what he was looking for. His gun was right where it was supposed to be.

Humming Blaine got ready for the day and when he finally went downstairs he found his family sitting around the kitchen table with papers scattered on it instead of food. He wondered what normal families did during breakfast and concluded it wasn't what his family did.

"Morning," he greeted his parents and his brother Cooper. "What are you up to?" he asked while pouring a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice into a tall glass.

"Going through the list of people who owe us to see who we should visit first," Cooper mumbled absentmindedly while crossing something off the list. "This one was killed two days ago… We should go after his wife now."

"Don't be a jerk, Cooper," their mother scolded her son. "Give the woman a week to mourn."

"Fine," the boy responded and skimmed through the list again. "Dave Rogers it is, fifty grand with interest. Shall we go now, dad?"

"Sure," the man said and stood up. He grabbed his gun off the table and hid it behind his jacket.

"Do you need me to come?" the woman asked.

Her husband shook his head. "No, me and the boys will take care of this."

Blaine's eyes widened. Finally, he was invited to go as well. For the first time, his family had accepted him.

"Should I go change?" he asked pointing at his light green cardigan. "I don't think this is what I should be wearing while threatening someone, is it?"

"Oh," his dad looked at him with an apologetic smile. "I meant Cooper and your cousin Tom. You are not going, son, sorry."

"Why?" his lips trembled as the disappointment took over him.

"You need… to do your homework," the man said quickly. "You need to get good grades."

"First of all," Blaine said crossing his arms over his chest, "it's Saturday so I have two days for homework. And second of all, I already did my homework last night."

"Nerd," Cooper hissed at him.

"Cooper, be nice to your brother," their mother cut in. "Blaine, sweetie, you are too young to participate in our games."

"Cooper was two years younger than I am now when dad started to take him to work," Blaine argued knowing deep down that this battle was lost.

"Tom is waiting for us, let's go," his dad said looking at Cooper and they left, his brother grimacing at him while walking out of the kitchen.

"Wipe that frown off your face, sweetie, I'll make you an omelette, alright?"

"Thanks, mom," Blaine said and sat down defeated.


His dad and Cooper came back in the afternoon. From what Blaine heard being in his bedroom they were in a good mood. They must have gotten their money back. Blaine quickly finished his entry in the journal, not a diary, and went downstairs to ask them how everything went. He reached the bottom of the stairs when he heard hushed voices.

"I'm just saying that we should give Squirt a chance to prove himself," Cooper whispered. "I hate to see him so sad whenever we tell him he is not allowed to come with us."

"No, he is too young," his mother protested.

"He is seventeen, Linda," Blaine heard his dad say. "He wants to be in the family business so we should start teaching him what it's like."

His mother snorted. "He keeps a diary, writes songs, and performs at nursing homes. Now imagine him killing someone. Or beating them up. See? That's what I'm talking about. He will never be part of our family business. End of discussion."

Now that hurt, a lot. Blaine already knew he was the black sheep in his family but hearing it from his own mother was different. He kept repeating her words in his head while he retreated to his bedroom, trying not to be heard.

Yes, he kept a diary… journal, but it only meant that he was consistent. It would help him in many situations.

Yes, he wrote songs, which meant he was good with words. He could probably convince people to give them their money back without violence.

Yes, he performed at nursing homes with his glee club, so he was used to death, sort of. It would be easy to kill someone, who deserved it.

"Sweetie, we are leaving. We should be back in time for dinner," his mother shouted when Blaine was entering his room.

"Okay, be safe," he shouted back as an idea formed in his head.

When he heard the front door closing Blaine crossed his bedroom and entered the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. "You are strong. You are cold-blooded. You deserve the respect from your family. You will earn it. You will prove them that you are more than they think."

Blinded by his newly found determination the boy took his gun out of the drawer and threw it onto the bed. He found the most badass clothes he had in his closet and changed into them.

Back in the bathroom he stood with the gun pointed at the mirror. "I'm here to kill you, motherfricker. You deserve to die you… bad person," Blaine narrowed his eyes trying to look more intimidating. "I'm here to count the last seconds… or minutes of your life… asshole."

Satisfied Blaine shoved the gun where his dad always did and went downstairs. He could feel the gun moving with every step he took and the boy squirmed uncomfortably. He couldn't understand how anyone could want to have a gun in their pants. He took it out and secured it into his satchel instead.

Knowing where his parents hid their most precious documents made Blaine's task much easier. His mother was a sentimental woman so after playing around with their birth dates Blaine got into their main safe. It was full of papers, money, and whatnot. But he only needed one thing – the purple folder, which had the information about the newest targets.

Blaine fished it out of the safe and opened it. There was only one file inside. The boy opened it and found a photo of a bald man wearing a suit.

"I'm here to kill you… ah," Blaine found the name, "congressman Burt Hummel. Yeah, sounds good," he whispered to himself and took the photos of the file with his phone. Luckily, it had the man's address in it.

The drive to Lima was long enough for him to come up with a plan. It wasn't elaborate but he was sure it would work.

Blaine parked his car several blocks away and walked to the house which belonged to his target. He pressed the doorbell button and waited.

The door opened seconds later to reveal the man from the photo. "Can I help you, kid?" the congressman asked and Blaine smiled at him.

"Yes," he said and took his gun out of his satchel, after checking to see that the street was empty. "I have a gun here and I think you should go inside."

"Wha–" the man stared at him with disbelief.

"Get inside, please," Blaine asked politely and finally the man moved. The boy sighed in relief, the sooner they got inside, the less likely it was for them to be seen by anyone passing by.

The man backed away enough for Blaine to go in and shut the door close. "Take anything you want," he said, obviously scared. Blaine felt sorry for him.

"I want to take your life," the boy said coldly, proud of himself for managing a decent threat, "mother…"

"Mother?" the man asked confused.

"Motherfu… fri… shoot, I can't curse," Blaine sighed. "Alright, less talking, let's go into the living room, maybe? Yeah, show the way."

The man turned around and walked into the room nearby. "You don't have to do this, kid, if you leave right now I won't call the cops. I'll just forget this ever happened."

"No, I have to do this, sorry," Blaine said looking around the room. "Oh, I love these curtains, lovely patterns," he commented. "Now, get on your knees."

The man kneeled with shaky legs and put his hands over his head. Blaine smiled happily. He didn't even tell this man to do it and he did. He was very good at killing people already. Wait until his family found out.

Blaine rounded the man because he was no coward so he would face the man, who he was about to kill. "Okay, um, any last words maybe?" he asked not sure what the proper protocol was. He would have known if his family had believed in him.

Burt nodded looking at him intently. "You can kill me but don't do anything to my son, okay?" he asked. "He is innocent, he has nothing to do with politics. So whatever happens, leave him out of this, please?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Blaine suddenly very aware that it was really happening, the man in front of him would leave this world for good in a matter of seconds, leaving his son without a father. "You are the only one I have to kill so don't worry, I won't hurt your son."

"Thank you," the man whispered and shut his eyes closed.

Blaine took several deep breaths. I'm goona do it. I'm really gonna do it. Do it, Blaine. Come on, it's easy, do it. Show them what you are made of…

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the steps coming closer to the living room. "Hey, dad, what do you want for di–"

Blaine snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the doorway where he saw a boy around his age entering the room. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the scene in front of him – a stranger pointing a gun at his kneeling dad. The boy looked up at the soon-to-be killer and their eyes met.

It was all sudden. The rush of heat was overwhelming his mind and body. He felt his skin tickling with the need to be close to the tall boy, and his heart sped up as if it was going to explode.

"Oh crap," Blaine cursed as the realisation hit him – the boy in front of him was his soulmate.