Summary: What will happen when Blaine can't stand his own home anymore and just runs-far, far away?

AN: Hello! I'm really unsure of this right now, so any reviews would be amazing. I want to know how I can make this better, so please share. Even if it's bad.

There will be some trigger warnings for abuse and probably a bunch of other things but I'll tell you in the AN in each chapter.


Left, right, left, right, left, right, left right. Forward. Keep moving forward. You can't stop. It doesn't matter where you go, just don't stop. You have to get away. Ignore the pain. In your chest, in your legs, in your feet, in your back, in your ribs. Ignore the words that are playing in your head. Keep everything out of your mind. Just run. As fast as you can. Just run forever.

There goes the gas station, the grocery store, the post office. There's the library. City limits. Keep going. Somewhere. Somewhere far, far away.


Kurt checked his watch as he stood in the foyer. It was time. He didn't need to put this off any longer. He grabbed his coat and went out to his Navigator, parked alone on his driveway. His father, step-brother and step-mother were all out running various errands, leaving him in an empty house.

He got in the car, turning the heat up all the way and backing out slowly. He traveled leisurely across the town and pulled into a parking lot in front of an old stone church. Architecturally, it was a magnificent building, but what happened on the inside isn't as amazing. Kurt sat in the car for a minute, eying the gate that he had become very familiar with, even after he and his father had stopped going to church.

Despite the beauty of the structure, the thought of the building revolted him. The people inside rejected him. They provided him no help in his times of need. No solace in an organization supposedly comprised of hope and love. The entire point of religion was torn away from him because he didn't fit into what they though "God" wanted on his planet.

Regardless, the small area next to him did provide him solace.

The small connection that section of land provided him to his mother was indispensable. It provided him with a somewhat tangible memory of her. It gave him a grounded place of remembrance. A place to talk to her, a place to think of what she would want for him, a place where maybe she could exist, if just to him, for a little while. A place where he could be reminded to that she was ripped away from him too soon, but not without any type of mark. There would always be things that she taught him, things that he will use for the rest of his life.

Kurt was turning off his car to visit this sacred ground when a form ran across his field of vision. The boy tugged the gate open and continued inside, scanning polished stones until he found whatever he was looking for. There, he collapsed, in tears. He was wearing only a tee shirt and jeans in the 30 degree weather. It was not uncommon to find people in hysterics inside cemeteries, but usually people didn't come sprinting up and collapse on the graves.

Kurt slowly got out of the car and creeped towards the rows of headstones. He did his best to ignore the teenage boy collapsed in a heap on a grave, face buried in the ground and loud sobs echoing off the nearby church. Kurt walked to his destination-his mother's headstone.

He knelt by the large piece of granite, running his fingers over the carefully carved letters. "Merry Christmas, mom," he whispered softly, staring into the cold nothingness of the stone. For something that incited so many thoughts and memories, so much hope and love, it was so lifeless. Whoever came up with the idea of a rock being the ultimate form of remembrance is probably the king of irony.

His mother's marked place of decomposition wasn't enough to hold his attention, though, as more loud sobs came from the other side of the cemetery. There was the boy, a heap of emotion on the frozen ground. His body was rocking back and forth with uncontrollable feelings, tremors ran through him with his sobs, and now he was shivering from the December cold.

Kurt felt terrible for the limp figure. He felt like he had to go over and help him, like an invisible force was pulling him towards the hopeless boy sobbing at a grave. He walked over quietly, though even if he stomped the boy probably wouldn't have noticed. When he got close enough, he took off his jacket and placed it over the trembling boy, kneeling down next to him as he straightened it over his hunched back.

The small form moved, and a tear stained face appeared. Every aspect of the face was overcome with confusion and sadness. His mouth was opened in surprise, moving to try to form words.

Seeing the difficulty the other boy was having, Kurt whispered, "It's okay." He rubbed his hand around the other boy's back, comforting him in his continuing sobs. His head dropped back, this time onto his arm. The two of them, not knowing so much as the other's name, sat there for half an hour, Kurt comforting this stranger, whom he owed nothing to and knew nothing of.

Eventually, the sobs weakened and the boy sat up a little. His face was blotchy and red, shiny from the tears that had been streaming down his cheeks. His eyes were glassy from still more tears, and red for the same reason. "Why?" He asked, surprised that this boy had stayed with him, this complete stranger, this emotional wreck, this wreck of a person.

Kurt thought about the simple question for a minute. "I… don't really know," he finally stated. This gained him a confused expression from the boy who was still under his jacket on the cold ground. "I just felt like I had to." Kurt was just as surprised by his words as the other boy was.

Kurt gave a more perceptive look at the other boy. He was about Kurt's age, a mop of black curls on his head and the most amazing golden honey eyes Kurt had ever seen.

Kurt started shivering slightly from the cold air and the lack of proper clothing. The still unnamed boy he was with realized and quickly reached for his jacket. "Oh I'm sorry here have your jacket back. Thank you though."

"It's fine, um…"

"Blaine. I'm Blaine." His right arm jerked out a little, an instinct to hold out his hand in greeting. Kurt smiled a little at the unintentional gesture. It was something that seemed so uncommon nowadays.

"I'm Kurt, by the way. Now, before you freeze, why don't we go back to my car and we can warm up and I can give you a ride to wherever you need to go." Kurt said sweetly, turning towards the car before he was snapped back by Blaine's response.

"Oh, thank you, but I'm fine. I'm just gonna walk." Blaine's eyes downcast and he started walking the other way.

"There is no way you're walking. You will freeze, and I'm not really too sure about your mental state considering the fact I just comforted while you sobbed by an old grave for what, like an hour. Come on."

There was no way for Blaine to reply to that. He followed Kurt to the navigator parked by the Church and got in on the passenger side. Kurt started the car, and asked the boy next to him, "First off, do you need to talk about what caused you to run up to a cemetery in insufficient clothing and collapse in tears by a grave on Christmas eve?"

"No. Just an old memory."

"Okay. I know that' you're in no way okay, but I'm not going to force you to talk. But if you change your mind, just tell me. So where am I taking you?"

"You see that's the thing… I don't have anywhere to go to."


AN: Tell me what you think please. I know it's short, but that's the way I wanted it. (Well, I wanted it a little longer, but I didn't want to add more just for words)