A/N This is a small drabble I wrote for tiemydreams' birthday on Tumblr! If you want a drabble for your birthday too, let me know! Tell me your birthday and a prompt or favourite AU and I'll write it for you!
That's something else his father kept pushing him about. Finding himself a girl. He had to admit, Ms. Rachel, the youngest from the Berry family, was quite nice but Kurt couldn't seem to picture her as his life partner. Something about it just didn't seem right. Still sulking, he saw a pile of clothes further on the street. Kurt was surprised. From the very little he has seen of the town he knew people here would never simply throw away their clothes. Most clothes were handmade and too much trouble to simply throw out, especially not somewhere on a pile on the street. Kurt bent forward and let his hands wander over the fabric to see if it was not too damaged and if he was still able to make something out of it with the nice clothes maker they hired that always lets him help when the pile of clothes suddenly moved.
A head, the bearded head of a man appeared from the lumps of clothes, glancing up confused, squeezing his eyes closed until they were nothing than tiny slit, protecting his eyes from the rain. As soon as his gaze met Kurt's he picked himself up from the ground, staring at him wide eyed.
'I-I'm sorry, Sir,' he muttered, almost inaudible over the sound of the rain. 'I-I didn't mean t-t-to-'
'Calm down,' Kurt exclaimed, a little overwhelmed by the man's reaction. 'Please,' he added as an afterthought. The man visibly calmed down at Kurt's words but still eyed him warily.
'Why aren't you at home,' Kurt asked, noticing the man was as much of a man as Kurt was. They both didn't look a year older than sixteen but with the wise tell-tale eyes of somebody who has suffered and lost. Kurt felt an overwhelming sympathy for the person in front of him, so young and so worn out.
'I don't have a home, Sir,' the man replied with his head bowed. He looked positively embarrassed.
'But then where are your parents, Sir?' The young man let out a choked laugh, filled with bitterness and sadness.
'My parents didn't want me anymore, Sir,' he muttered. 'They sent me out of my home. I'm originally from the neighboring town of Westerville. I came here looking for a job but this town seems to need all the available jobs for their own citizens.' Kurt nodded.
'But in this rain… don't you have anywhere to stay for the day?' The boy shook his head.
'I'm afraid not, Sir. I have been sleeping on the streets ever since I arrived at this town.' Looking down on the young boy who now had the blankets and clothes he was wearing completely soaked, seemingly doing nothing to keep him warm, judging by the way he shivered and trembled, Kurt made his decision.
'What's your name?'
'It's Blaine,' the boy replied softly, a little unsure. 'Blaine Anderson.' Anderson, Anderson, Anderson… where had Kurt heard that name before? Oh, right! He remembered. Devon Anderson was one of the men his father traded with. He always seemed like an honorable man. One with a temper, certainly, but Kurt would have never taking him as somebody who would throw their own flesh and blood on the streets to freeze and starve.
'Blaine Anderson, my name is Kurt Hummel, son of Burt Hummel.' Kurt saw a flesh of recognition in Blaine's eyes at the sound of Kurt's name but he didn't comment on it so Kurt continued. 'I'd like to invite you to stay at my house today.'
The smile on Blaine's face, dirt smeared all over it from spending weeks without water to wash himself with, wet from the rain, and exhausted looking, destroyed every doubt Kurt might have had left in his head with the speed of the lightning flashing over their heads. It was warmer than any fireplace Kurt could have spent the day sitting in front of, doing nothing. In that moment, Kurt was convinced it was the most valuable thing he had ever laid eyes on.
A/N Yeah, not very good, I know! :'-) Let me know what you think? :-)
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