Author's note: Trolololol, hi, guess who forgot to put all this jazz here when she posted this and then fled the Internet. Yup.
So, okay, the beginning of this is set in a verse where Kurt never transferred to Dalton, but the whole Jeremiah and Rachel thing happened and uhm, yeah.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of it's characters. This is all fiction. :)


Blaine Anderson was not new to difficult situations. There was a reason he had fled to Dalton, and the school's education program wasn't really why he'd chosen to go there, no matter how much he tried to convince himself exactly that. No, Blaine had chosen to run instead of confronting his fears and his tormentors. Not that it really was a bad idea, seeing how he was constantly covered in bruises and cuts. He just kind of wished he could run this time, too.

Slowly, he knocked on the door of the Hudmel household.

Blaine had practically lived with Kurt and his family the last couple of months, so he'd long ago learnt to recognise whoever about to get the door by the sound of their footsteps, so even before the door got pulled open and an excited Finn Hudson showed up, he'd raised his fist.

"Hey, man!" Finn greeted him, bumping Blaine's fist with a ridiculous grin plastered on his face.
"Hello, Finn. Is Kurt home?" he asked, polite as ever, his voice only slightly strained.
"Oh yeah, he's in his room. Hey, you wanna watch the game with me and Burt tonight?" Finn babbled on, and Blaine shook his head no.
"I don't really have time. I… I just need to talk to Kurt" Blaine answered, already heading upstairs, shoes and jacket still on.

He knocked on Kurt's door, wanting nothing more than to burst into the room, sweep the slender figure that was his best friend off the floor and hold him close. However, just the mere thought of doing so was insane, so Blaine just waited and when Kurt showed up he just grinned at him, not letting any of his desperate need and wanting show in his eyes.

Kurt, looking surprised, although pleasantly so, raised a single eyebrow.
"Blaine" he breathed, voice gentle as ever. He was already dressed in dark blue silk pyjamas, which, Blaine noticed, made his eyes look bigger and more piercing than he remembered them.
"Hi there" he replied, somewhat baffled, as his drank in the sight of Kurt, his hands, his legs, his hair, his nose, his exposed neck, his lips. Oh God, those lips! He forced his gaze away from Kurt's lip and looked into his eyes, and just as he was about to reach out to touch his face, Kurt smiled at him.
"It's not like you haven't seen this before' he snickered, walking over to his bed. Blaine followed, closing the door. At this point he didn't care about Burt and his rules. His eyes were unfocused, and he was holding onto his scarf so tightly that his knuckles whitened.
This is it, he thought, this is the time. He could hear Kurt talking, heard his voice, but was unable to actually listen to what he said.

"Kurt" he interrupted, "I need to tell you something and … and you can't freak out, you can't, you have to promise".

Kurt looked up at Blaine, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He looked pale, as if he were about to be sick. Or maybe he was just nervous; afraid of Kurt's reaction to whatever it was that he needed to say. Blaine glared at his feet, his head hanging just slightly.

Could it… No, Kurt thought, he did probably want Blaine to realise that they were perfect for each other so much it made him imagine things. It just couldn't be why he was there now, in Kurt's bedroom, biting his bottom lip. Because, if it was, Blaine wouldn't look that devastated, would he? He hoped not.
"Uhm, okay, sure. Go ahead?" he said, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. His stomach tightened, he just didn't want to know what Blaine had to tell him, certain it had something to do with him. Looking at his eyes, wide and oh so sad, he almost suspected that Blaine would tell him that he was really sorry, but they just can't be friends anymore because he doesn't feel the way Kurt does and it just makes it weird, but he swears it's not Kurt, it's him, all Blaine and that he was all kinds of great, but he just couldn't do this anymore.

He did certainly not expect Blaine to tremble and stumble forwards to him, arms reaching out for him. He did not expect to see tears on his cheeks, his face scrunched up as if in horrible pain. "Kurt" he choked out, his chest aching.
Without thinking Kurt pulled the shorter boy to him, wrapped his arms around the violently shaking body of the one he loved. Sitting there, listening to Blaine's sobs, not being able to anything but hold him tight, patting his hair, whispering softly in an attempt to calm him down, it felt like his heart was breaking.

Blaine didn't know what had happened. He was terrified, but he was going to tell him, he really was. But Kurt's insecure voiced had pushed him over the edge, and he cried like he'd never done before and everything hurt. He reached out, needing to be hold, to be soothed, to breathe.

He didn't know how long he was wrapped up in Kurt's arms, but he did stop crying. He sniffed pathetically, burrowing his face in the now soaked pyjamas shirt. Kurt didn't say anything; he just gently caressed his back.
Blaine squeezed him lightly before pulling away, still glaring down.
"I... I'm sorry, Kurt, I just…' he began lamely, but Kurt pressed a finger to his lips.
"Shh, don't worry about it. I'm here for you, okay? A shoulder to cry on, and all that jazz" he smiled at him, before adding, "always".
Blaine smiled, but it was clearly forced. He didn't say anything. Neither did Kurt, not for a little while.
"Hey… what was that you wanted to tell me? It seemed ... bad, if the crying indicates anything." He kept his voice chipper, but Blaine heard the concern in there. He shook his head.
"No, no, it's nothing… Just family trouble… I just needed to get it out, I guess.'
Kurt nodded, not convinced. "Well, if you ever need me… You know where to find me, right?"
Blaine laughed, his voice still trembling. Yeah, he knew where to find him.
"I… I think I should go" he muttered, and slowly got up. Kurt did the same, walking after him to the front door.
Blaine had his hand on the door handle when he turned and glared at Kurt.
"Before I go…. Can I try something?" he asked, his voice sounding vulnerable. Drowning in those hazel eyes, Kurt nodded slowly.

And then Blaine's lips were on his, soft, gentle, moist from the tears. It was chaste and sweet and it ended just as quickly as it had begun. When Kurt found his voice, Blaine was already outside, just about to close the door.
"Blaine" he called, "we'll talk tomorrow, right?"
His fingers were placed on his lips, and he could still taste Blaine's tears. The dark haired boy turned to look at him, eyes filled with care and… hurt?
"Yeah' he said, 'tomorrow. Goodnight, Kurt.'

He didn't hear Kurt's goodbye. All he heard was the voice in his head, yelling at him, for being a coward, for doing it again.

He was crying as he walked through the now empty house. He was no longer sobbing, but the tears just wouldn't stop; he had long ago given up on wiping them away.
His sight was blurred and his chest ached. Blaine was leaning against a wall now, and slowly he slid down until he sat on the floor.

His eyes darted from the plain walls to the windows and glass door leading out to the garden.
The room looked so … huge now. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to be 8 years old again, curled up in the couch listening to his mother playing on the large piano in the corner, not a care in the world. He could pretend to be 11 again, sick and staying home for the day, with his mother caring for him, bringing him soup and hot chocolate despite it being a weekday. He could be a little kid again, placed on his father's lap, his hand clutching on a pillow in the bright room, filled with laughter, with pictures covering the walls, pictures of him and his sister, his parents.

Blaine wanted nothing more than be little. To be able to run around in these rooms, up and down the stairs, stealing his sister's toys, play outside in the sun.
To be taken care of. He wanted someone else to handle his problems, wanted someone else to be responsible. He wanted life to be easy again.

Instead he was leaving, leaving the town, the state, the country. He was leaving Kurt.
Blaine got up, his eyes sweeping over the room one last time before he left the house and got in the car.

Blaine had run from school. From every problem he had ever faced. And now he was doing it again.
Running. Away from the one thing that made him happy, that made him feel like he had the courage he so badly needed.

No one could say that Blaine Anderson was a brave man.


Author's note: I... don't know. I just... If you like this, let me know. If you hate it, let me know. Just don't kill. I don't think being dead suits me much.