Summary: (Prompt Fill) Blaine and Kurt grew up in the same abusive foster home. One day the boys are transferred and separated. Kurt gets adopted by a loving family while Blaine remains in the foster system, bouncing from one bad home to the next. One day Blaine ends up in a home in Lima and attends McKinley where he re-meets Kurt.
Pairing: Klaine
Warnings: Abuse, Foster care, mentions of violence

Prologue (part 1/?)

Kurt sat in the far corner of the dark room, hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the loud, relentless banging at the door. Mr. Simmons was angry. Kurt wasn't sure why, but he knew that he was. If his hands weren't already occupied with trying to block out the terrifying noise, they might be rubbing at the bruise on his cheek that proved it. He was crying loudly, shaking from fear and the force of his sobs. Kurt had never been hit before. Even when he was really bad, his parents had never hit him. But he wasn't with his parents now. He would never be with them again. And Mr. Simmons was nothing like his mommy and daddy.

After the blow, Kurt hadn't known what to do. All he knew what that he needed to get away. He'd been so shocked and frightened that he'd run straight into the first bedroom he could find, not caring who it belonged to or who might be inside. He had locked the door, but it didn't seem like the wood could hold back the giant man behind it. It bulged and shook with every pound, and Kurt felt the weight of each blow the on the door in his bones. He cried harder.

"Shhh," a voice shushed from Kurt's left, making him jump, his eyes darting up to focus on the voice's owner. Another boy, about Kurt's age, was crouching beside him. The boy's face was pale, but his eyes were soft. There was an extra loud bang and the door shuddered violently, threatening to come free of its hinges. Kurt cried out in fear, but the boy beside him barely flinched.

"Shhh," the boy repeated, holding a finger up to his lips. Kurt shut his mouth and tried to quiet himself. The banging didn't stop. The boy grabbed Kurt's wrist gently and tugged, motioning for Kurt to follow him as he moved towards the other side of the room. Kurt shook his head violently, too afraid to move. He whimpered, but the boy held a finger up to his lips and tugged Kurt's arm softly.

"It's okay," he breathed, so quietly Kurt almost didn't hear him. Kurt wanted to refuse again, but the boy held his gaze unfalteringly. He looked so calm, almost as though he couldn't hear the man trying to bash in the door only a few paces away. Only the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. But his eyes, his eyes were so calm and gentle Kurt couldn't help but trust him. So when the boy motioned to start moving again, Kurt nodded. He followed the boy as he began crawling almost soundlessly across the room. Kurt was clumsier, his shaky body making his steps less sure, even on all fours. Still Kurt followed the boy, almost desperately.

When they reached the opposite wall, Kurt's eyes settled on a wooden door. A closet. Kurt had been too frightened to notice it before. The boy stood up cautiously and pulled the door open, nodding for Kurt to enter. Kurt didn't hesitate to scurry inside. The boy followed hardly a moment after, closing the door quietly behind him.

"If you just stay quiet, he'll lose interest," the boy said as he turned towards Kurt, sidling down to sit across from him, his back against the door. "Don't worry. He'll give up soon."

"What if the door doesn't hold him?" Kurt's voice was no more than a whisper that caught in his throat. The boy smiled a little and shook his head.

"It's a good door," he said confidently. "It can hold anything."

As if on cue, the banging on the door stopped as abruptly as it had begun. There was a moment of silence, and the boy stared at the door as though he was trying to see through it. He seemed to be holding his breath, listening. Noisy footsteps made their way back down the hall,and the boy let out the breath he'd been holding.

"See," the boy grinned but his voice never left a whisper as he turned back to face Kurt. "What'd I tell ya'?" Kurt couldn't help but smile back.

"I'm Blaine," The boy said, extending a small, skinny hand towards the pale boy across from him.

"My name's Kurt," his name burned his raw throat on its way out, but he took Blaine's outstretched hand in his own shaky grasp. Then, as if the friendly contact had been some sort of trigger, all the fear and uncertainty and sorrow of the past few days crushed down on Kurt, and he began crying again. The smile on Blaine's face melted into concern.

"Hey," Blaine crooned softly. "Hey, Kurt." Kurt didn't answer, opting to press the heels of his palms into his eyes and cry harder. Then Blaine's arm was around his shoulders, hugging Kurt into the his thin side. Kurt turned his head into Blaine's shoulder, accepting the comfort and dampening Blaine's plain white t-shirt with tears. No one said anything for some time, Blaine just held Kurt as he cried. When Kurt's tears subsided, Blaine started talking.

"How old are you now, Kurt?" Blaine asked, his voice hushed and gentle.

"Six," Kurt sniffed out, rubbing at his red eyes.

"Hey, me too!" Blaine declared softly, a grin gracing his face. "Have you been six very long? I just turned six on Tuesday. What about you?"

"I've been six since a long time ago," Kurt answered, his voice still shaky from crying.

"That makes you older than me!" Blaine continued. "That's kind of funny isn't it? We're both six, but you're an older six and I'm a younger six." Kurt smiled.

"Have you ever flown a kite?" When Kurt nodded, Blaine grinned. "I used to live next door to this kid who flew them all the time. I tried to make my own out of paper and sticks, but it didn't fly. So one day the kid saw me trying to fly my pretend kite, and when it didn't work, he let me fly his. It was a good kite, I think, all red with yellow and it looked like a dragon. I like dragons. Do you-"
Blaine carried on like that for a long while, asking Kurt simple questions and filling the quiet closet with useless chatter. He never asked Kurt anything too personal, never actually said anything important. He simply chased away the silence with his soft voice until Kurt fell asleep beside him.