A/N: So this was an idea playing around in my head for a bit and I thought I'd post it here. Klaine AU. It's inspired by Meg Cabot's Mediator series, and if you've read it you might recognize some things. But if you haven't, that's okay because you will still be able to understand this.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the Mediator series. Why? Because I'm not that amazing.

By each spot the most unholy-

In each nook most melancholy-

There the traveller meets aghast

Sheeted Memories of the Past-

Shrouded forms that start and sigh

As they pass the wanderer by-

White-robed forms of friends long given,

In agony, to the Earth- and Heaven.

"Dreamland"

Edgar Allan Poe

If it wasn't enough that my dad decided to re-marry and give me a new step-brother, he and his new wife decided it would be much easier if we were to just move house completely.

So, after the wedding, my new family and I packed up our belongings and moved into a new house. I honestly could have cared less. Yes, it was easier for everyone to just live in one new house rather than Carol and Finn moving in with us, or vice versa. And yes, I absolutely adored the new crimson shutters and trim against the cream exterior and the beautiful walkway paved with stones and surrounded by flowers that led right to a porch with one of those swing-seats under an awning. And yes, I loved my new room, with its private bathroom, small nook where I could already see my mother's dresser sitting and large queen-sized bed with a rich oak headboard. I mean, who wouldn't?

My only problem with the room was the ghost sitting on the bed.

Yes, that's right. A ghost.

I, Kurt Hummel, see ghosts. It's not something I chose, but it doesn't seem to be something I can get rid of either.

Well, I wasn't exactly expecting a ghost to be inhabiting my brand new bedroom upon arrival, so when Carol saw my look of surprise – and possibly slight annoyance – the smile on her face faltered a bit and she looked disappointed.

"Oh, you don't like it do you. We could always change the color or-"

"No! No, Carol!" I hastily told her, plastering a smile back on. "I love it! I'm just tired from the move, is all. I-I think I'd like to take a nap, actually. If that's alright with you?"

Carol and my dad hesitated, glancing at each other, before my dad nodded. "Sure, kiddo. Just remember that dinner is at six."

"Okay, Dad," I said. I waited for them to leave before closing the door and turning to face the other occupant of my room.

"Alright, so what's your deal?" I asked, placing my hands on my hips. I took a quick look at this ghost, noting his gelled black hair, white polo shirt which was slightly unbuttoned, and cuffed jeans over a pair of white sneakers. I wanted to snort at his attire – it looked like something straight out of Pleasantville.

The ghost, however, wasn't answering. He seemed to be looking around the room in confusion before looking back at me, thick eyebrows furrowing together.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Yes, I'm talking to you. Yes, I can see ghosts. It's a gift. Now, just tell me why you're still here, and I can fix your problem you move on, yada yada, and I get my room to my self."

The ghost blinked at me, mouth hanging open in surprise. "You – you can see me?"

"Yes, didn't I just say that?"

"It's just – no one has ever even noticed my presence before."

This time I did snort. "Yeah, well, that happens sometimes. Particularly when you're dead."

"What's your name?"

This time I felt my own mouth forming an 'o' of surprise. No ghost has ever asked me my name before. Usually it was "Oh, please, could you tell so-and-so this-and-this and oh thank you thank you bye now."

Of course, there were times when they just outright refused to move on. Those ghosts were a little more difficult, and required some special backup.

Realizing that I was still standing there with my mouth gaping open like a fish on land, I quickly snapped my jaw shut and spat out my name.

"Kurt Hummel. And you?"

The ghost grinned, flashing me his pearly whites. "Blaine Anderson."

"Alright, Blaine Anderson, how can I help you move on?"

"Move on?"

"Yes, move on. You know, to whatever it is after this? The after-life. Heaven, if you believe in that?"

"And you don't?"

Again, he took me by surprise. Never has a ghost gotten this personal with me. Except, well, her, but that doesn't count.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

"As a matter of fact, no, I don't."

"Why not?" he cocked his head to the side.

"I have my reasons. Now, what are yours?"

"My what?"

"Your reasons. For still being here."

"What do you mean?"

I sighed. "Why are you still here? What unfinished business do you have that is keeping you from moving on?"

Blaine shrugged, folding his legs beneath him on the bed so he was sitting cross-legged. "I'm not really sure."

"How could you not know? How did you die?"

At this, Blaine tensed, looking away from me. "I'd rather not talk about that."

Alright, so I laughed. But, c'mon, I had a job to do, and the bed he was currently occupying looked very tempting. "Seriously? You're talking to the only person who can help you, and you won't even tell me how you got here. And right now, I'm sort of cranky because I have spent the last three days packing up all of my belongings to move from my childhood home into an entirely new place. So, please, could you just make this easier for the both of us and tell me how you kicked the bucket?"

Blaine turned back to look at me and for a moment, I forgot to be the cold-hard bitch I usually have to be in situations like these, as his hazel eyes brimmed with tears. I felt my mask slipping and my guilt growing as I watched one lone tear fall down his cheek and disappear once it hit air. There was a pain in those eyes that went deeper than just the pain of having died, but I couldn't tell what it was for.

And then, he disappeared.

Just like that. Gone. Oh, I knew he would come back. He hadn't moved on, of that I was sure. Just probably hopped to another plane or something while he got his emotions in check. Obviously this one was going to be a piece of work. Just what I needed on top of everything else.

With a sigh I flopped onto my now empty bed and closed my eyes, sinking into the very soft down comforter. As I began to drift off I decided that I would have to thank Carole properly for her excellent taste in bedroom décor.

The last thing I remember before finally falling asleep was an image popping into my head, of the final look I had seen on Blaine's face, and briefly realized where I had seen that emotion before.

In the mirror, practically everyday after school.