AN: I'M BACK! Welcome to Some Other Us, which is very different for me, but I really hope you guys enjoy it! The title was inspired by Some Other Me from the If/Then musical which this is sort of loosely based off of. I own nothing.

Huge thank you to my beta, Christine!

Warning: Minor character death.


The law was supposed to solve a problem and while it destroyed the lives of those effected, it was supposed to help the government find its footing again. It was also supposed to be temporary. But four decades later, the law was still in place: if a minor were to become an orphan—and no previous legal arrangements had been made—then the underage individuals were placed in a yearlong training program and then sold as slaves to the families who could afford them. But even after the economy recovered, the laws remained the same, the injustice continued. It seemed nothing could keep the government from changing its mind—not protests, not riots, not petitions. But there were people still fighting.

Unfortunately, no one managed to win that fight before the year Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson turned fifteen.

The summer after Kurt turned nine, he and his father moved to a house on Beacon Street. His mother had passed away unexpectedly a few months before, and in an attempt at a fresh start, Burt Hummel moved himself, his son, and his business to a new town. Lima, Ohio was a small, quiet place, perfect for starting fresh and making new friends. Not that Kurt had that many before.

Burt and Kurt had barely begun unpacking when the doorbell rang and they were greeted on the other side by four smiling faces. Well, three smiling faces and scowl. The Andersons, who lived across the street, had stopped by to welcome the Hummels to the neighborhood. Mark and Heather Anderson introduced themselves, and then their two boys. Their oldest, Cooper—the one with the scowl—was be starting high school in the fall. He was wearing a black t-shirt with some band on it and looked thoroughly uninterested in being there. But it was Blaine, who was the same age as Kurt, who caught the youngest Hummel's attention. His dark hair was held perfectly in place by hair gel and he wore a blue sweater accented by a yellow bowtie that Kurt thought warmed the honey color of his eyes. Blaine smiled at Burt when his parents introduced him, then waved wildly at Kurt.

"You kids will be in the same grade," Burt said, his hand on his son's shoulder.

What Kurt's father really meant was "It'll be good for you to have a friend," but neither Kurt nor Blaine seemed to care.

"We can have a tea party once I find my set," Kurt said ignoring the adults and focusing his attention solely on Blaine.

Blaine smiled and nodded and three days later, after their first tea party, the Anderson and Hummel families were officially connected by the bond that had formed between their two youngest boys. Kurt and Blaine became best friends, inseparable, making it through junior high with just each other and starting high school knowing that the teasing and the bullies were no match for them as long as they had each other.

But two weeks before Blaine's birthday both of their worlds would shift.

It was early October and Mark, Heather, and Cooper decided to take a trip to see Heather's aunt in Pennsylvania. Blaine hadn't wanted to go and when Burt offered to let Blaine spend the weekend—as if he wasn't already planning to do so—the Anderson's agreed to let Blaine stay behind. On Sunday afternoon, as Blaine packed his things, knowing his parents would be home soon, while Kurt tried to finish his Math homework, the doorbell rang, but neither boy paid any attention, returning to their tasks.

But a little while later, Burt walked into Kurt's room with a somber expression that stopped Kurt in his tracks. He knew that face. It was the same face that his father had worn years before when he had told him that his mother was gone. That day had taken his world and flipped it on his head—and this day would be no different.

There had been an accident. The day before it had been raining pretty heavily and the boys thought nothing of it, using the dreary weather as an excuse to curl up on the couch and watch movies all day. But somewhere Mark Anderson had been driving when a semi slammed on its breaks, swerving as its tires tried to grasp the pavement beneath them. But it was too slick and Mark hadn't had time to move out of the way before the truck came crashing into the Anderson's Prius. Mark, Heather, and Cooper died shortly after arriving at the hospital.

Blaine was quiet as he tried to process Burt's words. He didn't scream or cry, but he let them cut into his skin, into his heart, into his everything. The world as he knew it five minutes ago was over. But it was about to get so much worse.

"Blaine, buddy," Burt said as he finished his story, the regret of what he'd just said and what he was about to say coating his words, making them rough as they came off his tongue, "God knows why, but your parents didn't make any arrangements for you."

Blaine's wide eyes shot up, the sadness of the loss of his family mixed in with the understanding of what Burt had just told him sunk into his bones.

"No! You can't let them take him!" Kurt shouted, the first to react, "That can't happen! Dad, you can't let that happen!"

"Trust me, Kurt, I've already tried. I already told the men at the door that I would take Blaine in, but because Mark and Heather didn't make legal arrangements for Blaine's guardianship, there isn't anything we can do right now."

The anger rolled over Kurt in waves. But he wasn't sure who he was really angry at. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson for not making the proper arrangements for Blaine? His father for not trying harder to convince the officers that Blaine could just stay with them? The world for being such a cruel place? The tears were warm as they rolled down his cheeks, but the fear began to run cold down Kurt's spine. They couldn't take Blaine away from him. He was Kurt's best friend, his everything.

"W-when do I go?" Blaine asked, his voice small and shaky and broken. His parents and brother were dead, he was going to be shipped away from the only people he had left, but he refused to break down, not now, but the thought of losing Kurt was too much and a single betraying tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek.

"The day after your birthday," Burt answered, "But you're staying here until then."

There wasn't anything Blaine could do but nod, so he did. The law was the law and no matter how hard they fought against it, it wasn't going to change anything.

Burt left the room a few minutes later, a hand on each of his boy's shoulders. Kurt looked over at his best friend, fresh tears pouring from his eyes. He didn't know what to do, what to say, how to comfort Blaine when his life had just fallen apart in a matter of minutes. So he did the only thing that made sense: he threw himself at Blaine, wrapping the other boy tightly in his arms. He didn't offer words of encouragement, or an empty promise that everything would be okay. Instead, he just held Blaine until Blaine's arms wrapped around him and his body began to shake as he finally let the weight of everything come down on him.

Kurt held tight to Blaine for minutes, hours, he wasn't sure exactly how long it took before the tears finally stopped and Blaine pulled back just enough to look Kurt in the eye. Blaine's eyes had always been the most expressive part of himself. If he was happy, his eyes were wide, shiny, and warm. If he was sad, they were darker, duller, but still beautiful. But when Kurt looked into them now, they were nothing less than heartbreaking. They were red from the crying and absolutely terrified. And so was Kurt. He didn't really know anyone who this had happened to before—there was a girl in his class in the sixth grade that lost her mom to cancer after her dad died before she was born and her mom didn't have time to make the proper arrangements. But Kurt hadn't known her, and she sure as hell wasn't his best friend.

There were reports on the news nearly every night and articles all over the internet debating about the safety and wellbeing of the kids who were put into any of the eight camps around the country. The child labor law and anti-slavery groups were the loudest of the protestors who were constantly telling anyone who would listen that the camps were unsanitary and the trainers were abusive and the thought of Blaine being subjected to that made Kurt's stomach twist and turn into knots. But he bit back the nausea because Blaine was still here and he needed him now more than ever.

"We've got to two weeks, right?" Blaine asked, his voice hoarse from crying.

"Blaine," Kurt said softly, trying to let Blaine know that he was there, all while not knowing what he could do. He'd never felt so helpless before—but he was determined to never leave Blaine's side. At least until he had no other choice.

Blaine took a deep breath, swallowed, and shook his head adamantly, "No. We can't change any of what is going to happen, so we just have to deal with it. Okay? We just have to make the best of the next two weeks."

Kurt didn't even try to stop the tears from falling again. It wasn't okay. It was never going to be okay. Not without Blaine. But there was no way in hell he was going to argue with Blaine over this, "Okay," he told him. Because what other choice did he have?


There was no point for Blaine to continue to go to school, and while Burt let Kurt stay home Monday, Tuesday left Blaine with an entire morning, and the house, to himself. He sat against the headboard of Kurt's bed and read through the information that had been dropped off the day before. Information about the law and what it now meant for Blaine. He wouldn't even know what camp he was being sent to until he got there, they wouldn't even tell Burt. They wouldn't be able to call or write. The pamphlets promised training in all the services he would be expected to perform once the year was up. He'd learn to cook, clean, do laundry, and sew; have training so that he could perform minor maintenance in areas like plumbing and electronics. He'd be the go-to guy for everything that whoever paid enough money to buy him needed. And he'd get nothing more than a room and a couple meals a day as compensation.

Blaine got up out of bed and walked over to the window in Kurt's room, the one that faced his house—or what had been his house. He'd been given until the end of the week to get anything he wanted or needed out of there before the bank was going to sell it, but he hadn't yet brought himself to go over there. The house was his, it held his things, but it didn't really belong to him anymore. Without his parents, nothing belonged to him any longer. Not even himself. But there were some things he wanted to get; things he wanted to give to Kurt and to have the Hummels hold on to…just in case. Things that didn't belong in a stranger's hand.

Blaine kept watching the house, hoping that he'd see his mom at the front door, or his dad's car pull into the driveway after a long day of work, or Cooper making out with some girl behind the garage. But his imaginations never turned into reality, and the funeral was still scheduled for Thursday.

He'd tried hard not to think about it, but once the funeral was over, the countdown to his birthday would be inevitable. And then he would lose everything: his life, his freedom, his identity, and more importantly, he'd lose Kurt and Burt. He'd have nothing.

#break#

There wasn't much to celebrate on Blaine's birthday. Burt bought a cake, but the candles were never lit and the song was never sung. There were no balloons or streamers, and there certainly weren't any presents. Blaine could bring one bag with him to camp, and he wouldn't even leave there with it.

Later that night, the boys laid in Kurt's bed—something they hadn't done in years, mostly because they were getting too big to share. They laid face to face, their fingers intertwined between them. They were quiet for a long time, just watching the other in the moonlight; memorizing freckles and the shape of the other's nose because this was the last time they were going to see each other. They'd spent every day for the last seven years together and the future seemed infinite and filled with dreams: of Broadway, of New York City, of getting everything their hearts desired. But none of that would ever happen now, at least not for Blaine. And without Blaine, Kurt wasn't sure what he really wanted anymore.

"Where do you think I'll end up?" Blaine whispered.

"I don't know," Kurt answered, "But they'll be good to you. I know it."

"I'm going to miss you," Blaine's breath hitched and the tears gathered and then fell from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. Because the scariest part of all of this was not having Kurt.

"I miss you already," Kurt replied his voice heavy with sadness, tears running down his own face.

"Do you think we'll ever see each other again?"

Kurt sniffled and then nodded, "Yeah. I don't know how or when, but we will. I know it."

Blaine nodded silently, accepting his friend's hope, not matter how false it might be.


Blaine had been on the bus for a couple of hours, still unsure of where he was going. It was an ordinary school bus: yellow exterior, dirty black seats on the inside. There was a foul smell in the air, like the scent of hundreds of people, of bodies, being carted off to a future that didn't belong to them. If despair had a scent, Blaine thought that it might smell like this bus. There were two other people on the bus. Through the tears that hadn't stopped falling from his eyes for the last few hours, he saw them, but they didn't register. He didn't know if they were male or female, what the color of their skin or hair was. He didn't know, and he didn't care. The officer sat in the front of the bus, gun at his hip. Blaine thought that he introduced himself, but he couldn't remember his name. Again, he didn't care. He just climbed on the bus and put himself in a seat and watched as the life he'd known, his house, his family, Kurt, disappeared from view.

No one spoke. The driver and the officer silent, the other passengers didn't even cough or sniffle. Like Blaine they were probably staring out the window, trying to hold on the memories of the lives they'd once known.

Saying goodbye to Kurt that afternoon might have been the hardest thing he'd even done. Harder than what he was about to do. He'd gotten little sleep, but he woke with the sun, wrapped in the safety of Kurt's arms. The boy he called his best friend, the boy he was in love with. Kurt hadn't left Blaine's side the entire morning, only giving him time to himself so that he could shower. But Kurt had been waiting in his bedroom when he'd come out. He'd been thankful for Kurt's constant presence. Because without it, he would have broken down. He wouldn't have found that last bit of something inside him that kept him standing upright. There was breakfast, but no one, not even Burt, ate.

After their attempt at breakfast, everyone sat in the living room and waited for someone to arrive to pick up Blaine. His bag was at the door, the last bit of possession that Blaine would ever have. There were no words, there was only quiet, as Kurt and Blaine sat next to each other on the couch, their fingers interlocked. They didn't look at each other, only the nothingness in front of them. Words would only bring tears and tears would only bring broken hearts and neither boy wanted to feel that until the last possible moment.

When the doorbell rang, Blaine's entire body tensed. His fingers gripped Kurt's as if he could somehow hold on so tight that they couldn't remove the connection and there would be no other choice but for Blaine to stay with Kurt, every day, forever. But despite Blaine's every wish, every plea to anyone who could hear him, he was forced to break his contact with Kurt and head towards the front door of the Hummel house. He hugged Burt and thanked him. Two words doing their best to say so many more. Thank you for being like a second father to me when my own was just across the street, thank you for being like a father to me these past couple of weeks, thank you for the things you don't think you need to be thanked for. He'd never seen Burt Hummel cry, never thought he ever would. But when he pulled away, Burt's eyes were filled to the brim and a single tear was sliding down his cheek.

He didn't know how to say goodbye to Kurt. He'd been thinking about it since the day he found out he'd been leaving, but even more the last day. How do you say goodbye to someone who means everything to you? How do you leave the one person that you can't live your life without? It's not easy and you don't do it on your own free will. Blaine looked at Kurt, his best friend's eyes red rimmed and filled with tears. The sight pummeled Blaine's heart. They'd always had the ability to have conversations, to say things, without actually using words. And now Blaine was grateful for it. Because he didn't have to figure out how to say goodbye to Kurt, he just gave him a look and then threw himself into Kurt's arms and held him and close as humanly possible. He took that moment to memorize the way Kurt felt against him, the way his arms wrapped around him, the way Blaine fit perfectly against him. This was how he'd remember Kurt for the rest of his life.

The officer cleared this throat and Kurt muttered something that Blaine didn't quite understand as they pulled away. He didn't have time to ask for clarification because it was time to go and the officer would no longer wait for him to say goodbye. And then with reluctant steps he followed the officer to the yellow school bus, the one with two other people, the one that smelled of despair.

Blaine thought about Kurt the entire ride. He thought about their past, every day until today that they'd been together. That was how he'd remember Kurt. He'd remember Kurt's passion for music and for clothes and the way he smiled when Blaine told a stupid joke. He'd remember all the nights they stayed up flipping through Vogue and telling each other secrets that they'd never tell another soul. But he didn't let him think about their future, because there wasn't one. Every single hope they'd had or plan they'd made was no longer within their reach. As the bus pulled in front of a large, grey building, there was no future for Blaine Anderson.


Kurt was only given one day to stay home from school before his father forced him back.

"I know it sucks," Burt had said, "But you have to get back to your life."

That was easy for him to say. He didn't have to go back to school and face the student body of McKinley High. He didn't have to walk the halls and pass by Blaine's locker and fight back the urge to just curl up and cry each time he remembered that the locker was no longer Blaine's and that Blaine was never coming back.

Everyone at school knew. People he'd never met before were passing him in the hallway offering their condolences—like Blaine was dead. Though it kind of felt that way. But he pushed through the day with as much effort as he could muster—eating lunch alone and being forever grateful when the final bell rang. He'd made it, without Blaine. The only positive thing was the signup sheet he'd seen for auditions for the new show choir. He'd only wished Blaine was around to audition with him.

When Kurt got home, his dad's truck was parked in the driveway. His father usually wasn't home until it was closer to dinner but Kurt walked into the house and found his father sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes focused on a pile of papers.

"Hey, kid," Burt said looking up to greet Kurt, "Sit down. I want to talk to ya bout somethin'."

Curious, and a little scared, Kurt put his bag down on the couch and joined his father at the table.

"Dad, you're freaking me out."

"It's not-well, I don't know what it is," Burt said looking his son in the eye, "But I was thinking a lot today, about Blaine."

The sound of his best friend's name drew the tears that Kurt had fought back all day to his eyes; they pooled and then fell slowly while his father continued."

"I was thinking," Burt said, "That maybe when the time comes we could buy him."

Kurt's breath got caught in his throat, the tears stopped flowing almost immediately, "But dad, you hate slavery."

"You're damn right I do. And I've never hated it more than when I watched that boy walk out the door. But I can't just sit around and do nothin', Kurt. He won't even really have to do anything. He'll just be living here."

"But the evaluators," Kurt warned.

"He'll have a list of chores, no different than you. But this way we will know where he is, we will know that he's safe."

"Can we-can we even afford to do this?" Kurt asked trying to remain realistic in fear that the optimism was nothing but a lie and his heart would be broken all over again when he and his father both realized that Blaine couldn't come home.

"We've got a year before he's sold," Burt told him, "We'll save until then, every penny we can. And when time comes we'll be there, ready. What do you say, kid?"

Kurt let the tears fall once again because for the first time in nearly two weeks there was a sliver of hope, a fraction of a chance that things would be alright. That he'd see Blaine again, that he'd have his best friend back. And all he had to do was wait a year and then Blaine's training would be over and he could come home.


AN: So, here we go! Thank you for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think. I will have Chapter 2 to you as soon as I can!